Rules of a Rebel and a Shy Girl (3 page)

Uneasiness crushes my chest, and I retrieve my phone from the pocket of my shorts to send her yet another message. Then I get back into the car and send Luna, Wynter, and Ari, three of my best friends, a pleading text that I’m stuck out on the highway and need help.

While I wait for them to respond, I lock the doors and flip on my emergency lights, crossing my fingers no one stops. That might sound crazy, but the last time my car broke down, a guy stopped and offered me twenty bucks if I sucked him off in the backseat. He was forty-something with a godawful comb-over, and he was sporting a shiny wedding ring. So, not only was he a complete creeper, but a cheating bastard, just like a lot of the guys my mom dates.

When I told him just that, he looked as if he wanted to slap me. Thank God Wynter showed up, or who knows what would’ve happened?

I shiver at the thought, nausea winding in the pit of my stomach. The ill feeling expands as my mind wanders to my job and how many creepers I’ve met there over the last couple of months. It’s my own damn fault. I chose to work at the shithole when I knew the shitty rep the place has. I chose to put myself in that situation in order to pay mine and my mom’s bills and still afford to attend school, which will hopefully help me get ahead in life instead of continuously being behind like I’ve been for my entire childhood.

I chose, I chose, I chose my luck.

I lower my head to the steering wheel. “God, what I wouldn’t give to have just one single moment when it doesn’t feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. Is that too much to ask? To just have one lucky day when my cards align?”

I don’t even know who I’m talking to, but they definitely answer with a big fat no as my phone buzzes with messages from both Luna and Wynter.

Wynter: I’m actually at the airport, getting ready to head to New York to see my grandma, so I can’t :( You should try Luna, though. I think she’s in Ridgefield for the week.

I soon discover that Wynter is wrong about Luna as I open the other message I received.

Luna: Oh, my gosh! That sucks! I wish I could come get you, but Grey and I are already on the road to Virginia. We’re about three hours out, but we can totally turn around and drive back if you need us to.

Despite the panic strangling the air from my lungs, I can’t help smiling. Luna’s one of the nicest people I know, and if I told her to turn around, she would. But I’m not about to make her bail out on her road trip with her boyfriend so she can come pick up my pathetic ass.

I text back and tell her it’s okay. Then I message Wynter to have fun in New York with a tiny flame of jealousy burning in my chest.

It’s Thanksgiving break. I should be going on trips to spend the holiday with family or at least doing something other than being stuck on the side of the road after getting off from a job that makes me feel disgusting inside.

I shut my eyes and take a few measured breaths, but the memory of a few hours ago flashes through my mind and my chest constricts.

Music booming, lights flashing, and the air reeks of alcohol and dirty money.

As I walk by the bar, a man slips a twenty in my back pocket. “Let me buy you a drink, gorgeous,” he says with a toothy grin, his hand resting on my hip.

I fight back the urge to smash my fist in his face for putting his hand on me and, instead, smile sweetly. “Sorry, but I can’t drink on the job.”

His other hand finds my waist, and he drags me toward the stool he’s sitting on. He smells like stale peanuts, and his bald head reflects the neon ceiling lights.

“How about this, then.” He leans in, dipping his lips toward my ear. “When you get off your shift, you meet me out back.” His hands wander toward my ass. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

I lift my hand instinctively to slap him across his face, but Gus, the manager, shoots me a warning look from behind the bar. Correcting myself, I plaster on the fake smile that’s starting to feel more real with each passing day.

My phone buzzes in my hand, startling the bejesus out of me. My fingers tremble as I swipe open the message, hoping upon hope it’s from Ari, replying that yes, he’ll come pick me up. But Luna’s name pops up across the screen again.

Luna: I texted Beck and he said he stayed home instead of going with his family to Vail, so he’ll come get you. Just let him know where you are. And make sure to text me when you get home, so I know you made it back safely :)

Her text is sweet, but the mention of Beck makes my stomach ravel into knots. Beck is still one of my best friends in the entire universe, maybe more than even Wynter, Luna, and Ari combined. But even though I tell him almost everything, I’ve never mentioned and never plan on mentioning my new job. And if he sees me in my uniform, reeking of sweat, beer, and disgustingness, he’ll know something’s up.

I flop my head back against the headrest and stare up at a hole in the fabric ceiling. What the heck am I going to tell him? I usually bring an extra change of clothes, but I stayed up for half the night, trying to track my mom down at the local bar, and ended up sleeping in later than I normally do. I was in a rush when I left the house and forgot to grab my normal clothes.

Before I can come up with a solution, my phone rings, and the screen illuminates the dark car.

“Speak of the devil.” Summoning a breath, I answer, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies in a light tone. “I heard you got yourself into a bit of trouble.”

“Yeah, my car broke down again, but can I point out that you sound way too happy about the fact?”

“I’m just happy I get to come play knight in shining armor for you again.”

“Haven’t you done that enough? I thought you’d be tired of it by now.”

“Is that why you didn’t text me yourself? Because you thought I was a lazy knight in shining armor?” he jokes, but a drop of hurt resides in his tone.

“No, I thought you were in Vail,” I reply, eyeballing a car driving by.

The truth is that I wasn’t sure if he went to Vail or not. I just didn’t call him because 1). Beck already does too much for me. And while that seemed okay when we were younger, I feel pathetic for still needing his help all the time when I’m now an adult. 2). The whole seeing me in my work outfit thing. And 3). Beck comes from a very wealthy family and sometimes has a hard time understanding financial struggles, like why I don’t just get my piece of shit car fixed. Answering with a “because I can’t afford it” leads to an offer to give me the money, which I’ll never accept, despite his persistence.

There’s also a number four, but I hate thinking about that one, mostly because I hate that the number exists. But it has to. Otherwise, Beck and my friendship would become too complicated. The middle of senior year was a perfect example of this.

We were at a party, and after way too many drinks and way too much time dirty dancing, we ended up in Beck’s bedroom, which wasn’t odd—we did that a lot—but that night felt different. That night, his touches and smiles caused my stomach to flutter.

“You seem nervous,” he said as we sat on his bed, facing each other with our legs crossed. Music vibrated through the floorboards, and soft light filtered across the room.

“I’m always nervous,” I admitted. This was Beck, the only person who truly understood the depth of my anxiety. “You know that.”

“I do know that.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “But that doesn’t mean I want to know why any less, so spill.”

“You’re just making me a little nervous tonight.” I didn’t know what else to tell him other than the truth, even if it had to do with him.

He pressed his hand to his chest in shock. “I am?”

I nodded, staring down at the comforter. “I don’t know why, though.” Or maybe I did, and I just didn’t want to admit it.

He cupped his hand underneath my chin and angled my head up. “I don’t ever want you to be nervous around me. What can I do to make it better?”

I shook my head, and for some wildly weird reason, my gaze roamed to his lips. I’d been doing it all night, wondering what kissing him would be like. I knew he’d kissed a handful of girls and heard rumors that he was a great kisser. I was curious, not just about kissing Beck, but kissing in general. I hadn’t done it. I had rules against it. Rules saved me from turning into my mother. Of course, with alcohol in my system, breaking rules seemed easier.

“I really don’t know,” I whispered, unable to remove my focus from his lips.

Silence took over except for the booming music playing downstairs. I wondered what other people were doing right now, what my friends were up to. Were they having more fun than me? Doubtful since my most fun moments were with Beck. Plus, he made me feel so safe, especially when he hugged me. Sometimes, I wished I could stay in his arms forever. Life would be so much easier that way.

“Wills.” His voice was low and husky.

I tore my eyes away from his mouth and met his gaze. His eyes were blazing with an indecipherable hunger. I couldn’t figure out what was causing the look until he leaned in and grazed his lips against mine.

I squeezed my eyes shut, parted my lips, and for a heart-stopping, soul-burning, mind-blowing moment, life was perfect. Then I snapped out of my stupidity and remembered life wasn’t perfect. I had lived in imperfection since I was six.

Panic rose inside of me, and I ran like a coward.

For weeks afterward, I could barely look Beck in the eye. Those were some of the loneliest days of my entire life. The only reason I was able to be friends with him again was because of the rule. A simple rule. At least, it seemed so on paper.

Absolutely no lip-to-lip contact.

Yep, that was my rule. I gave Beck a copy and keep the original in my glovebox. Having that boundary written down seems to be working for us.

Sort of …

“You sound stressed. What’s going on?” Beck’s troubled voice lures me out of the memory.

Fear scorches through me as a car zooms by, and I sink even lower in the seat.

“I’m always stressed. It comes with the territory of being a worrier,” I tell him. “But the place I’m broke down isn’t helping my anxiety, either.”

“Where are you exactly?”

“On the highway between Ridgefield and Fairs Hollow.”

“Fuck, that’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, I know. I was …”
I was what? Coming home from work? Because he thinks you work at a library, which is far, far away from here.
“I had to run a few errands for my mom, and my stupid car decided it was going to overheat again.”
God, I hate lying to him. It makes my heart ache.

“You really need to get your car looked at,” he says over the chatter and piano music rising in the background.

“I will,” I lie. Like I pointed out earlier, trying to explain not having money to Beck doesn’t work. “Where are you? I hear a lot of noise.”

“I’m at my sister’s. She’s throwing a week before Thanksgiving party.”

“Is that a thing?”

“Apparently. At least to her. But you know how Emmaline is. She throws parties for every holiday and the week before. Remember she did that for Easter a couple of years back?”

I smile. “Yeah, I remember. You made me go to it with you and told all the kids at the kid table that we were eating rabbit. They freaked out and started to cry, and your dad got so pissed.”

“My dad is always pissed,” he reminds me with slight bitterness. The only time Beck ever sounds bitter is when he’s talking about his dad, a cold, unemotional man who loves to work more than be a father or husband. “But that time, it was kind of worth it just to see the look on those kids’ faces.”

“You can be so evil sometimes.”

“So can you. That’s why we’re so great together. In fact, I think we might create the epitome of perfection.”

Deep down, I know he doesn’t mean we’d be a great couple, but my lips tug downward, anyway. Not because Beck would be a horrible boyfriend; I just prefer not to think about boyfriends: of having one, of ruining my life to have one, of getting consumed by one, of ending up like my mom because I get so consumed by one. And Beck, he could definitely consume me. I can feel the magnetic attraction, the overwhelming sense of drowning every time I’m near him.

I glance at the glovebox, thinking about the rule. Knowing it exists makes me breathe easier.

“Maybe I should try texting Ari again,” I change the subject. “I don’t want to make you leave your sister’s party.”

“Too late for that. I’m already in the car.”

If I had a penny for every time he said that to me, I wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.

“Besides,” he continues. “I’m not about to pass up my chance to be your knight in shining armor just so I can stick around and listen to my sister’s friends babble about the stock market.”

“Is that what you rich folks are talking about these days?” I tease, hunkering down in my seat as headlights shine through the rear window of my car.

“Oh, my God, you have no idea,” he gripes. “I swear if I heard any more about exchanges and volumes and yields, I was going to start singing Linkin Park’s ‘One Step Closer’ at the top of my lungs.”

I giggle. “Man, I’d love to see that go down.”

“One day, I’ll make that happen for you.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” I tease then suck in a sharp breath as the headlights move closer.

I turn around to glance out the window, but I can’t tell if the car is driving absurdly slow or has stopped. I double-check to make sure the doors are locked then sink lower into the seat.

“It’ll have to be at one of your parties, though. That kind of stuff would fit right in with the stupid parties my mom throws all the time. Someone is always screaming about something.” I bite my tongue as soon as I say it. While Beck knows how my mom is, he doesn’t need me whining to him about my pathetic life. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bitch about my mom. She’s just been giving me a headache lately.”

“I’m guessing Claude the nose picker broke up with her?”

“Was he the nose picker? I thought that was Wally.”