Rules of a Rebel and a Shy Girl - Jessica Sorensen Page 0,61

kiss started, she’s jumping out of my arms and shoving the piece of paper at me.

“R-read this.” Her voice trembles, and her legs shake as she tries to get her balance.

I can’t even breathe, let alone process what she’s trying to say. “What?”

She sucks in an uneven breath and then steps toward me with her hand out. “I need y-you to read this.”

I glance at the paper then at her. “How did we go from us kissing to me needing to read a piece of paper?” A piece of paper that I’m pretty sure has another goddamn rule on it.

“Please, just read it,” she begs, her fingers trembling.

Frustrated, I take the paper from her, purposefully grazing my fingers against hers. When she shivers, I have to fight back a grin. Then any amount of optimism gets squashed as I read the list scribbled on the piece of paper aloud.

“Rule number one: no wandering off into fields together to go stargazing.”

“Because it’s what started this whole thing to begin with,” she explains, smoothing her hands over her hair, frazzled.

Yeah, like that’s going to solve anything.

“Rule number two: absolutely no lip-to-lip contact.” I glance up with my brow arched. “We’ve had that one before.”

“Yeah, I know.” She scratches at the back of her neck. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory why I kept it.”

“But is it doable?” I give a pressing glance at her lips, which are still swollen from our kiss, and then at her wrinkled dress and tangled hair. “Because it didn’t work.”

She smooths her hands over her hair and dress, staring at a rosebush beside the front door. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I added the other rules to help this one work.”

I bite back the need to point out that she can’t even look me in the eye when she says it and read the last line. “Rule number three: no falling in love.”

Yeah, it might be a little too late for that. At least for me. I can’t tell her that yet. This list proves that.

A stupid list that I want to shred to pieces.

“I just want us to have some boundaries,” she says, finally looking at me. “That way, we can still stay friends without any more incidents.”

There are a thousand things I want to say to her right now. Usually, I bite my tongue and bury down my feelings, desperate to hold on to her. At the moment, I’m either too hungover to care, or that kiss shattered any ounce of willpower I have left.

“Incidents?” I cross my arms and lean against the doorjamb. “Is that what you call the hottest kiss of your life? Well, it was for me.”

“Beck …” She trails off, her massive eyes reflecting her fear. She looked the same way after we kissed during our senior year, and our friendship nearly shattered to unfixable pieces.

I decide to back off for now. Not because I’m agreeing to her stupid rules, but because I need time to figure out a way to prove to her that we belong together, that a relationship with me won’t destroy her. I’d never destroy her.

“Fine, I’ll obey the rules.” For now.

Her muscles unravel as she releases a deafening breath. “Thank you. I so needed to hear that.” She hesitates then carefully wraps her arms around me. “I can never lose you.”

“You won’t,” I promise her, hugging her closer, my heart pounding. “And you want to know why?”

She pulls back, nodding.

“Because I can never lose you, either.”

She smiles, but nervousness resides in her eyes. “You won’t lose me,” she assures me. “You and I are going to be friends until we’re seventy, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” I think I changed my mind.

I don’t want to be friends anymore. I want more.

I want all of her.

She glances down at her watch. “Shit. I have to be at work soon.” She looks back at me. “We’re good, right? I mean, what happened just barely … We can just forget about—”

“We’re good,” I say. As for forgetting, that’s never going to happen. I don’t want it to.

She offers me one final smile before jogging back to her car.

I watch her drive away then step back into my house and into the kitchen. Evidence of a party lies everywhere, from the empty glass bottles on the marble counter to plastic cups piled in the trash can.

My thoughts drift back to when I cleaned up Willow’s place after her mom threw the party; only, the apartment was trashed with way more than just alcohol