Unspoken Rules

by Eliah Greenwood

  “My point… is that you need to join my circle.”

  This makes Haze scoff.

  “Thanks, but no, thanks.”

  “Haze, you don’t understand…”

  “I do understand. I understand that my traitor of a brother is looking for an excuse to get my trust back and screw me over again.”

  “You do realize that people will find out why you quit, right? It will lead back to her, Haze. Everything will.”

  Haze’s anger fades, Tanner’s warning finally puncturing his walls. He glances at me. He’s worried.

  “No one’s touching her,” he says.

  “I can help you protect her if you give me a chance.”

  “Protect her? Spare me the bullshit.” Haze points to the door once more.

  “I know what I did was fucked up, but… things have changed since then. I’ve changed. I want to make this right. At least tell me that you’re coming to Mom’s reception on Tuesday.”

  We haven’t had a chance to discuss that yet. Haze transports his weight from one leg to the other uncomfortably and shakes his head no.

  “You have to come. We’re making a big announcement.”

  “So?”

  “It’s important.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll have to come to find out.” Tanner uses the only leverage he has.

  “Why would I come for some stupid announcement that doesn’t affect me?”

  “Oh, it will.” Tanner pauses. “In fact, it already has.”

  Tanner makes his way to the open door, his steps echoing in the barely furnished apartment. He turns around a few seconds before he walks out.

  “I’ll see you there, little brother. Actually, I hope to see you both there.” He doesn’t dare look at me. The door clicks shut, and we wait for his footsteps to fade down the hall.

  “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering this,” I say, recognizing the look on his face.

  “Aren’t you?” Haze walks to the living room.

  “That’s the curiosity talking. That’s exactly what he wants. What if it’s a trap?”

  “He’ll be dead before he hurts you,” he says, still aimlessly roaming his apartment. He won’t admit it, but seeing his brother again wasn’t easy.

  “He’s still your brother,” I breathe.

  “I don’t care. He sure as hell didn’t seem to care when one of his guys put a gun to my temple. I... I need some air.”

  I follow him onto the balcony, the rage radiating off him making me rethink my every word before they even come out.

  “Haze,” I whisper behind him.

  The lean muscles of his back stretch to the rhythm of his unsteady breathing, his hands gripping the railing so tight that his knuckles turn white. This is a fresh night, and he’s still shirtless. He looks completely unbothered by the chilly temperature.

  I, on the other hand, am starting to understand what Jack must’ve felt like in Titanic.

  “I lost my brother…” He finally speaks after a few seconds. “Who, as crazy as he is, was pretty much the closest thing I had to a family since Des died. Then, I lost my fighters. This may not mean much to you, but I thought they were my friends. And now…” He looks ahead into the emptiness. “Now I’m going to lose you, too.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re not going to lose me.” I press myself to him. He wraps his arms around me, and even in this ice age, his skin is smoking hot. I relish in the searing of his body on me and take in every bit of his cologne.

  “Do you think I don’t know that we only have a week left?” He tells me the words I’ve been dreading. “In that week, we have finals and prom and my parents’ stupid reception. We barely have any time together. What about after? When are we going to talk about this?”

  I break away from his hold. “Don’t pin this on me. I tried talking to you, but you’ve been gone for days. It’s pretty hard to communicate when there’s only one of us talking.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe I wouldn’t have to pretend I’m not seeing you anymore if you weren’t the damn East side girl!” He raises his voice at me.

  I fall silent, disbelief crushing me. Are we really doing this right now? Is he seriously blaming me for being, well… me?

  “Do you think I want this? Do you think I asked to be in the middle of your stupid war?” I shout. I know he’s going through something right now, but that doesn’t give him the right to speak to me this way. “If you wanted nothing to do with the damn ‘East side chick’ as you so nicely put it”—I create air quotes with my fingers—“then maybe you shouldn’t have made a deal with her as the prize in the first place.”

  The argument keeps escalating. Overwhelmed, I don’t wait for it to reach a higher level and walk back inside the apartment. Haze doesn’t miss a beat, mirroring my actions.

  “What about me? Do you think I wanted this to happen? Do you think I planned to fall in love with you?” He trails behind me. “You were supposed to be a game. A way to destroy the East side. You were supposed to be nothing to me. Nothing,” he snaps, and I blink back the tears forming in my eyes.

  “Oh yeah? Well, I’m sorry that you hate loving me so much,” I scream and head for his bedroom. “Let me spare you any more trouble.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he calls as I grab the bag of clothes I packed to stay with him and throw its strap over my shoulder. I stride toward the front door, but he’s too fast. He easily steps in my way, his hard chest blocking me.

  “Move.” I try hitting him, pushing him, tackling him, but nothing gets me the results I seek. He picks the strap off my shoulder and my bag meets the floor. On punch number three, he steps sideways, but it quickly becomes apparent that it’s not because he’s letting me go.

  Not even close.

  He grips my waist before I can twist the handle, spins me around, and slams my back to the door. He forcefully jacks his body to mine to immobilize me. We’re both angry messes. Two stupid kids in love, blinded by the fear of losing the only thing that matters. The only thing the whole world denies us. Every sign, every moment… they point us toward the colossal and impending truth. That maybe we really aren’t meant to be together. That the Universe keeps on pulling us apart for a reason. It’d be so much easier if we just let it go, parted ways, and remembered the brief, passing romance we shared during our senior year. It should be easy… but love never is.

  “You are not leaving me!”

  “Yes, I am!” I relentlessly punch his torso until he grabs my wrists.

  “Just fucking stay!” he shouts, pinning my arms on each side of my head. His chest rises and falls rapidly as his pleading eyes sink into mine. Eventually, his anger flops, leaving room for a desperation that shatters me. “Please…”

  I can’t think. I can’t speak.

  A lapse of judgment. That’s what hits me. Just fucking stay. The words pry their way out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  “Make me.”

  His lips part. All we do is stare at each other in silence.

  I look at him.

  He looks at me.

  And we realize the same thing at the same time.

  What the hell are we doing right now?

  The breath is knocked out of me when his lips roughly slam against mine and one of his hands slips into my hair. I should get him off me. I should push him away after all the horrible things he just spat in my face. But I can’t. I don’t want to. Instead, I do the wrong thing for even worse reasons. I find myself kissing him back, our moving tongues making me forget the words we didn’t mean… the words we should’ve meant.

  I don’t know how we find ourselves on the couch. I don’t know how he ends up on top of me, tearing off my underwear with his teeth, and I especially don’t know how I end up moaning into his mouth while he pushes himself inside me.

  I don’t know why my body responds to him this way, to the strong roll of his hips, to his tongue on my burning skin. Truth is, I don’t know anythi
ng when it comes to Haze… and I want it to stay that way.

  I don’t want to know. I don’t want to think.

  If I do, I’ll be reminded that we’re doomed. That next Friday, I’ll be on a plane taking me far, far away.

  Away from this place.

  Away from my family.

  Away from him.

  He rests my leg on his shoulder and takes it further, deeper.

  I hate him.

  I hate him so fucking much.

  But I love him more.

  “You’re not leaving me,” he grunts into my ear and speeds up his thrusting to the point of making me shake. He once told me that I was his, and, when he pushes so deep that my eyes roll back, I know it’s true. I hate it.

  I hate it more than words can say. But he’s right.

  He’s right and he always will be…

  I’m his.

  Haze

  A phone.

  That’s what wakes me up. I stretch, my hand automatically wandering to her side of the bed—let me rephrase—the side where she should be, and frown when the silk sheets skim the tips of my fingers. She isn’t lying next to me. I rub my eyes and peel them open, ignoring Winter’s phone going off on the nightstand.

  I sit back up, the memories of how she felt around me converting my confusion into lust. Last night was different. It was hateful, angry sex, filled with resentment and desperation. She wanted to resist. I could see it in her eyes as I rammed myself inside her. She wanted to be strong, but she couldn’t. We both couldn’t. We never can.

  I swear this girl is going to be the death of me.

  I hear motion in the kitchen and smile, scooping her phone that’s still annoyingly buzzing off the table and carrying myself out of bed. The first thing I see when I march out of my room is Winter standing in front of the oven, cooking breakfast, or should I say, trying to cook since she’s a self-proclaimed queen at burning pastas.

  “Smells good in here.” I walk to her and rest her phone, which just stopped ringing, on the counter. She’s wearing my shirt. She’s the cutest thing in the entire freaking world, and anyone who disagrees will have to fight me. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

  “I don’t. Which is why I’m hoping you don’t die from food poisoning.” She giggles.

  “You’re not eating with me?”

  “I already ate.”

  I nod and kiss her. She barely pecks my lips and pulls away.

  “That’s it? That’s all I get?” I pout.

  “Sorry. My morning breath says I can’t kiss you longer. I want you to live.”

  I laugh.

  “Any plans today?” I ask.

  “Yeah, Kass’s picking me up in less than an hour to go dress shopping. You know… for prom. She already got her dress, but I didn’t.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to that.”

  “I wasn’t going to, but Kass’s dragging me, so I thought maybe…” She stops talking. “Maybe we could go together.”

  I pretend to hesitate, which only accentuates the worried expression on her face.

  “If you’re going, then I’m going,” I say, and she rejoices, the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen lighting up her face. She throws her arms around me and kisses my cheek multiple times. I don’t care much for prom—I never have—but I care for Winter, which makes the choice easy.

  She turns off the stove and goes to get a plate out of the cabinet. I find myself staring when she gets on the tips of her toes and the shirt rises, giving me a quick but much appreciated sneak peek of her ass.

  “Nice shirt.” I smirk and lean back against the counter with my arms over my chest.

  “I grabbed the first thing I could find. Hope you don’t mind.” She comes back with a plate. “It’s so big, I never get cold. I like it.”

  “Keep it if you want. You’re going to need it when you move to the North Pole.”

  The smile is instantly slapped off her lips.

  I know that was a low blow. I couldn’t help myself. We haven’t talked about her leaving yet, and it’s weighing on me a bit more every day.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been good since last night. I’m stopping now.” I put my hands up in surrender.

  “No, don’t. You’re right. It’s time we talk about it.” She places the plate down next to the sink. “Let’s just put it out there, shall we? I’m leaving next Friday. What then?”

  Her affirmation punches me right in the face. I don’t know why I somehow convinced myself that she’d flinch and decide to stay. To me, the possibility of her leaving was just that: a possibility. But now it’s real… too real.

  “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering leaving,” I let out.

  “Of course I am. Florida was never a permanent thing for me. Toronto’s my home. It’s where my family is, my friends. My whole life. The college I chose.”

  “I thought your life was here… with me.” My throat itches.

  “It is. You’re a big part of my life, but… they are, too.”

  “So what? You’re just going to leave? We’re just going to break up in five days?” The words break up echo in my chest.

  “I don’t want us to. We can find a way.”

  “I’ll give you a way. Stay here. Find a college here. Let’s build a life here. Screw Canada. It’s cold all the time anyway.” My anger speaks for me.

  “But it’s my home…”

  “And Florida is mine.”

  An impenetrable tension surrounds us.

  “Long-distance relationships are a thing, you know?” Her voice breaks.

  “Is that really how you want to live? Winter, this isn’t an ‘I see him on the weekends’ kind of long distance. This would be an ‘I see him once every six months.’ We can’t do that. Don’t you want this to work?” I move over to her.

  “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re the one sounding like you don’t want us to work right now. I’m trying and you’re just… downing every solution I come up with,” she says, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

  Shit. Great job, Haze.

  I sigh. “You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry. Hey, look at me.” I lift her chin up. “We’ll cross the bridge when we come to it. We still have a few days to figure this out. And we will. We’re strong enough. I promise.” I open my arms for a hug that she doesn’t decline. She wipes her tears and hides her face in my neck. My baby’s just as scared as I am.

  She only leaves my embrace when her phone vibrates for the millionth time.

  “It’s been going off since I woke up,” I say.

  She nods and picks it off the counter. She reads the many texts on her screen, and if I thought the look on her face was heartbreaking before, I’d clearly never seen the pain envelope her like this.

  She just read something. But what?

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

  “Nothing.” She moves from side to side.

  “Winter.”

  “It’s nothing, I promise. I have to shower. Kass will be here soon.” She turns on her heels, but I steal her phone away from her. She’s not quick enough to stop me. She has a few texts from Kendrick and Will, all asking her the same question. They want to know if the rumors are true. They’re asking if I really gave up fighting. The most recent one, which is also the text that turned Winter’s smile upside down, rubs me the wrong way. It’s from an unknown number.

  Unknown Number: Heard you’re leaving next week. Can’t wait for Haze to pay me another visit. ;)

  What the fuck?

  “Who’s that?” I ask.

  “I… I have no idea how she got my number.” She doesn’t directly answer my question, but she says enough.

  “Bianca?” I put the pieces together.

  She nods.

  “What has the psycho been saying to you?”

  “Oh, you know, nothing much. The usual. That you slept with her the day I left town. That you had sex with her over and over again and lied to me about it.” She looks at th
e ground.

  Anger consumes me.

  Then surface the memories…

  My footsteps are fast-moving, both hesitant and determined. Both too slow and too fast. I have no idea why I’m here right now. I know this isn’t going to fix anything, but I still find myself going up the stairs leading to Bianca’s porch. This time feels different. I feel different. I repeatedly pound on the door until she opens up.

  “Haze? You’re here,” Bianca states, but it sounds like she’s having a hard time believing it. She steps aside and I walk in, silently staring at this girl who isn’t that good-looking now that I really think about it. Sure, she has a nice body, but she doesn’t have the nice mind to match. What’s a nice house if the rooms are empty? What’s a nice book cover if the pages are blank?

  “I’ve missed you so much, babe.” Her fingers cling to my shirt, spreading all over my chest as she presses her breasts to me. “I knew the rumors weren’t true.”

  “What rumors?” I finally speak.

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a bunch of nonsense. People are saying you’re with that Winter bitch.”

  Gee, I forgot how much she talks. It never bothered me before since I don’t listen and easily shut her up, but right now, for the first time, I want her to keep talking.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I frown.

  “They’re saying that you have a thing for her or some shit.” She doesn’t wait for me to deny nor confirm her claims and straight-up gets down on her knees in front of me.

  I’m too stunned to react.

  People are saying that I have a thing for Winter?

  How come the whole fucking planet seems to see it except for me? Bianca unhooks my belt the same way she did many meaningless times before, except that now, I’m repulsed. I could gag. What the fuck is wrong with me? Confused, I circle her wrists and get her back on her feet.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “Nothing.”

  Nothing’s wrong. I’m still me. Nothing’s changed, right?

  She nods and grips my collar to press her mouth to mine. It just takes a second. My mind is the victim of a hundred flashes. I see us at the motel. I can still hear her moaning while I kiss her neck.