Unspoken Rules

by Eliah Greenwood

  “Let’s go.” His tone is cold.

  Am I sensing… jealousy?

  We walk side by side for a few minutes until I can’t take it anymore.

  “Why are you so moody?” I finally let myself ask.

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. You’ve been moody since that guy got me the dress,” I say.

  “We have to go grocery shopping next.”

  “Way to change the subject.”

  “I mean, who does he think he is? Buying a perfect stranger a dress? That’s creepy. I don’t trust him.”

  “Haze, it’s just a dress.”

  “Whatever.” He shrugs.

  “You know, if I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you’re jealous.”

  He stiffens up. “Jealous? Please. I’m just wondering what motive this guy has. He’s probably never going to see you again, so why? Not to mention that we’re trying to keep under the radar.”

  “It’s not like I’m ever going to wear a classy dress like this locked up in the lake house anyway.”

  His shoulders seem to relax, his anger decreasing. He’s about to speak again when someone beats him to it.

  “Haze?”

  I can tell from the way his face crumbles that he knows that voice. I’d even go as far as to say that he’d recognize it anywhere.

  We both turn around simultaneously and come face-to-face with a beautiful, short red-haired girl and a guy with loose brown curls. They look slightly older than us.

  “Vic?” Haze seems a bit uneasy.

  “I can’t believe it. How long has it been? Like two years?” The guy who answers to the name Vic pulls Haze into one of those bro hugs guys do to show their affection. I don’t speak male, obviously.

  “Who’s this?” Vic asks when they pull away.

  “Winter, this is Victor, my oldest friend. Victor, this is Winter, my…” He pauses, hesitant as to what word he should use. “Friend.”

  There goes the F word again. I mentally curse, feeling myself fall deeper and deeper into the friend-zone hole.

  “Nice to meet you, Winter,” he greets me. “This is my girlfriend, Beatrice.”

  “But everyone calls me Bea.” She grins shyly.

  I return their smiles. “Nice to meet you both.”

  “What happened to you?” Bea asks, noticing my leg and crutches.

  “I…” Think, Winter, think. “I fell.”

  Haze holds back a small snicker.

  What? That technically isn’t false.

  Bea and Victor nod, satisfied with my answer, and bring their focus back on Haze.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that you were back in town, man?”

  “Because I’m not.” Haze shifts uncomfortably. “Well, not really. We’re just passing by. You know, not staying for long.”

  “Still, you should’ve told me. How are things with you? We’ve barely even spoken since…”

  Haze slightly clenches his jaw, and Victor cuts himself off like he just got too close to talking about something they promised to never bring up again.

  He said Victor’s his oldest friend. They must’ve grown up together. I knew Haze had a past in this town.

  This has got to be his hometown.

  What else?

  “I’m good. I’m great, actually.” Haze quickly fills the uncomfortable silence before it gets too thick. “How are you?”

  A bunch of chitchat follows, and all Bea and I can do is stand by while the boys catch up.

  “Good to see you guys are still together. How long has it been?” Haze asks.

  Vic circles Bea’s shoulders with his arm. “Four years in a few days. We’re actually having a dinner party with a few friends next Saturday to celebrate our anniversary.”

  “That’s great.” Haze nods.

  No one speaks for a few seconds. Bea lightly elbows her boyfriend as if to make him realize something. On hit number two, he takes the hint.

  “Oh, hey, do you guys want to come?”

  Immediately, I feel Haze pulling away. Not physically, but mentally. He doesn’t even move a muscle, but his body language and the energy oozing off him scream that he’s not a fan of the idea. But I mean, that’s pretty much what he does every time someone tries to get somewhat close to him.

  “We’d love to.” The words escape my mouth faster than I thought possible.

  Haze tenses up by my side.

  “Wait, really?” Vic’s eyes widen. “I mean, that’s great,” he corrects himself. He looks in disbelief that Haze said yes.

  Well, technically, I did. But I spoke for the both of us.

  It’s obvious that Vic’s tried to reconnect with Haze in the past and got repeatedly blown off.

  “We have the day of the party off. What do you say we all hang out at our place beforehand?” Vic suggests, pushing it even further to see how long his luck will last.

  “Sure,” I speak again.

  Haze clears his throat, and I know it means “What the hell are you doing? Shut up,” but I ignore him.

  “Awesome. Let’s exchange numbers,” Bea suggests.

  Haze doesn’t oppose, nor does he entertain the idea. We all exchange phones. Vic and Haze are the only ones who don’t have to as they already have each other’s cells. Minutes later, we’re all set.

  “This is going to be so fun. We’ll text you the time and address.” Bea claps her hands in excitement and looks at the time on her phone. “Oh, we have to get going, babe.”

  “Okay. Well, we’ll see you next Saturday,” Vic says, turning away. “It was really nice meeting you, Winter.”

  “You too.” I wave.

  Haze forces a smile, and I bet to them it seems real. I think I’m the only one noticing those details because I’ve spent way too much time looking at his annoyingly perfect face. I could tell his fake smile apart from a real one with my eyes closed.

  “Oh, and dress up.” Bea glimpses at us one last time before they walk away.

  As soon as they’re out of sight, Haze turns to me.

  I am so not getting away with this one.

  When we enter the lake house, Haze drops the many grocery bags he’s carrying on the counter. Silent, he starts unpacking and filling the empty fridge up.

  “What’s the big deal? It’s just some dinner party.” I try to get him to warm up to me. He’s been cold since we left the mall. First, it was the dress, now this.

  “You had no right to say yes,” he says and puts a cereal box away.

  “Why don’t you want to go?” I hop to him and grip the counter to find my balance. “They seem really nice. Plus, what else are we going to do stuck in here for the next few weeks?”

  “Just drop it. You already said yes anyway.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “You don’t get it, Winter.”

  “Then explain it to me.” I stare at him.

  “It’s complicated.”

  I scoff. “It always is.”

  I put the last of the groceries away and move over to the living room to get away from him. He can’t be upset with me and not want to tell me why. This whole “closed book” thing is really starting to get on my nerves.

  A few minutes later, he joins me. He’s holding the bag he had walking in the store earlier after his mysterious departure. He tells me to scoot over and sits next to me.

  “Remember what we talked about today?” He grins like we weren’t arguing barely a minute ago. He seems so excited I don’t question his sudden demeanour change. “About you not having a phone?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I thought it was time we did something about that.” He gets a box out of the bag, opens it, and takes my ability to speak away from me.

  In the box… is a brand-new phone.

  “Haze, you didn’t.”

  How the heck am I supposed to be annoyed with him when he does things like that?

  My eyes fly over the phone for a few seconds. It’s very recent—like this year’s recent.
>
  “Are you insane? I can’t accept this.”

  “You kind of threw yours in the toilet because of me. I figured I owed you one. Plus, having you walk around with a dinosaur kind of defeats the purpose of keeping you safe, don’t you think?” He grabs my phone on the table next to the couch and analyzes it. “What can you even do with that piece of crap anyway?”

  “I mean… I can text and call.”

  “Can you even take pictures on that thing?”

  “Of course. As long as you don’t mind them looking like they were taken with a potato.”

  “Do you have any?” he asks.

  “No, it’s kind of useless.”

  “What about apps?”

  “Server doesn’t allow it.” I shrug.

  “So, basically, you don’t have anything that matters on there.” He raises an eyebrow.

  “Pretty much,” I give in. “But it’s not that bad. It survived a lot more than the new phones do.” I refer to the whole kidnapping hell.

  He smirks and glances at my prehistoric phone in his hand.

  “Let’s see if it survives this.” He gets up and starts running.

  Dang it, Winter. How could you not see that one coming?

  “Haze, stop! I can’t chase you. That’s cheating.”

  I watch him open the large glass doors leading to the balcony. Before I know it, he’s on the floating dock next to the house and throwing my phone as far as he can into the lake.

  He walks back into the living room seconds later, laughter wrapping him up, and sits back down next to me. I immediately punch him in the arm with all the strength I can gather and scowl at him. After a few minutes, I give up. It’s not making a difference. If anything, it’s just amusing him more.

  “Please, I did you a favor throwing that nightmare away. You should be thanking me.” He leans forward and glances over my shoulder to see what I’m doing. “What are you waiting for? Open it.”

  “What’s the deal with everyone giving me stuff today?” I admire the phone—forced to admit that it’s much nicer than anything I’ve ever owned before—and press the button to turn it on.

  “Haze, I… I don’t know how to thank you.” I flip the phone around and assess it some more. It’s huge. How am I even supposed to put this in my pocket?

  “You can call me Master for the next few weeks and we’re good.”

  “You wish, you sicko.” I chuckle.

  He tears his eyes away from me. “Had to try.” He gets up from the couch. “You hungry?”

  “Famished.”

  “What do you want? We got pizza, pizza, and pizza.”

  I swallow a small laugh. “How about pizza?”

  “Good choice. Coming right up.” He glances at me one last time before turning the corner. Deep down, I’m glad that Maria allowed me to stay here with him. I found out more about Haze in the one day I’ve been here than in the whole time that I’ve known him…

  And something tells me there’s way more to come.

  8

  Close And Personal

  “Okay. Why the fuck is the car flying?” Haze says, and I break out into laughter, sinking deeper into the couch. We’ve reached the end of Grease.

  Just because I’m watching it with him, it feels like I’m rediscovering the movie—even though I’ve seen it a hundred times—and finding every joke funnier. I’m guessing this might have something to do with the alcohol coursing through my veins.

  Haze thought it’d be a good idea to drink the beers he bought earlier and watch a movie while we ate dinner. One thing’s certain: he sure didn’t expect the only DVD left in the house to be Grease.

  “Are we going to another dimension? Or space?” He frowns, tilting his head to the side.

  I laugh. “Just go with it.”

  “I mean, I get it. They graduated, they’re happy, the girl got hot, and the bad boy’s gone soft, but what the hell is this? A flying car? Is this a sci-fi movie and I missed it?”

  The closing credits begin, and after arguing with me about the necessity of the flying car scene for a few minutes, Haze gets up and scoops the beer bottles off the ground.

  “I’m going to throw these out. Be right back.” He turns around one second before he leaves. “You want another one?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  He walks out of the room, and I let myself gape at the stars through the living room’s high windows. This is breathtaking.

  “There you go.” Haze walks back into the room and hands me my beer.

  “Thanks.”

  When he sits down next to me, we’re left with nothing but silence and this tension that follows us everywhere we go. My eyes divert to the grocery store pizza box on the table.

  “That pizza was beyond disgusting, by the way.”

  “Yeah. Next time we’ll get it delivered.” He takes a sip of beer.

  I look up at him. “Does that mean we’re going to be eating pizza this entire time?”

  “Well, unless you cook, yes,” he says.

  “What about you? Do you cook?”

  He avoids my eyes. “Nah.”

  He’s lying.

  “Bullshit. You totally do.” I point an accusing finger at him.

  He throws his head back with a sigh. “Fine, I might know how.”

  “No way! Haze Adams cooks. You have got to show me.”

  “How do you do that?” he groans and slumps farther into the couch before I can ask him any more questions about his past as a chef.

  “Do what?”

  “See so clearly through my game.”

  “What can I say? I know your lying ass pretty well by now.” I push my hair over my shoulder jokingly.

  He scoffs, impersonating me and pretending to push his nonexistent long hair to the back in a ten-times-more-ridiculous manner. I chuckle and throw a pillow at him.

  “There’s a nice restaurant downtown. We could go grab a bite there tomorrow morning if you’re not feeling pizza for breakfast.”

  “Sure. I’d love that.” I can’t help but wonder if this is his way of asking me out.

  “Hey, can I ask you a question?” A seriousness covers his features out of the blue.

  I nod. “Ask away.”

  “Are you a virgin?”

  I smile, remembering how he tried to get the info out of me via text many times in the past. I never answered.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I tease.

  “Oh, come on.” He puts his hands up.

  “What do you think?” I challenge him.

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. I can’t read you.” He squints his eyes like it will help him uncover my secrets. “On one hand, you totally give me innocent girl in bed vibes, but on the other…” He smirks, giving my imagination a million chances to finish his sentence.

  “On the other what?”

  I’m not sure I want to hear the rest. He lets my thoughts run unnecessary miles before speaking again.

  “You also look like you could blow a guy’s mind if you wanted to.”

  I ignore the suggestion dripping from his voice, biting on the inside of my cheek. Why am I all of a sudden even more drawn to him? It’s like I’m battling this urge to pull him closer and say “let’s find out.” So much for being friends, huh?

  He speaks again. “So, are you?”

  “What?”

  “You know what.”

  Only then do I notice that we’ve gotten closer to each other without even realizing it. This couch is huge, but our bodies didn’t get the memo. We’re a bit too close to be talking about things like this. Especially after the numerous beers I’ve had.

  I draw a breath. “I wish I was.”

  “Ooh, dark.” He rests his chin in the palm of his hand and stares at me intently. “What happened?”

  “Let’s just say hearts were broken and it got real awkward real fast.” I take a long sip of beer. I don’t want to get into this with him. Not now. Not ever.

  “Bad sex, huh
?”

  “Haze,” I say, a small smile covering my lips.

  “What?” He puts his hands up. “Isn’t that like a universal rule that most first times suck?”

  “You mean the romance stories where the girl’s been saving herself up for nineteen years only to end up having the perfect first time with the oh-so-perfect boy isn’t always real?” My mouth drops open in mock disbelief.

  He laughs. “Go figure.”

  Quickly, the harmless questions become more… personal. And as much as I want to think of myself as someone private, the embarrassment I usually feel every time someone asks me about sex is nowhere to be found. We end up telling each other about our favorite positions—not that I really have enough experience to know which one I like best—and I’m not uncomfortable at all. Not with him.

  On beer number seven, I’ve officially had enough.

  “Your turn. What about your first time?”

  “It was…” He pauses. “Okay, I guess. It was her first time, too, so.”

  I hate myself when a hint of jealousy burns within my stomach. They were each other’s firsts. It wasn’t just sex. They were intimate. She must’ve been really special to him.

  Don’t do that, Winter. He obviously had a lot of “intimate moments” with girls, so if you start feeling bad about all of them you’ll be wallowing in bed until next year.

  I remember what Blake said to me at the hotel about how Haze got a girl pregnant at sixteen. We never really got around to talking about that since, the very next day, I was out of town. Riley. That was her name.

  “Was it Riley? Your first time I mean?” I ask.

  Instantly, his smile fades. He sits straight and away from me.

  “We never really talked about what Blake said that night…”

  He doesn’t speak, staring at the hardwood floor.

  “You know, about you being a father.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” His tone takes me by surprise. “Blake’s a fucking psycho, and she got an abortion. End of story.”

  How’d he go from nice to cold as ice in minus two seconds?

  “Are you sure?”