The Rule Breaker - Crystal Kaswell Page 0,46

Just let me explain."

"Why should I?"

"Because you want to."

Her eyes flare with anger.

"Because I'll look pathetic if I beg."

"Sounds like a reason you should."

"I will."

She motions go ahead. Folds her arms. Stares at me like she's sure I won't take her dare.

But I will. If that's what it takes.

Fuck, here goes nothing. I take a deep breath. Drop to my knees with my exhale. This is not how I imagined doing this.

My head is already flush with other images—

My hands under her dress.

My lips on her thighs.

My name rolling off her lips.

Not the time. Not that my cock cares.

I try to ignore the fucker. Press my palms together. Look up at her. "Please, Luna."

She looks down at me. "Please what?"

Too much. Let me explain. Let me confess. Tell me it's okay. "Give me ten minutes. If you still want to tell me to fuck off, I will."

She says nothing.

"If that's not in the cards, at least let me make sure you get home okay."

"I'm an adult."

"I know."

"I can take of myself," she says.

"I know."

"Why should I let you pull that patriarchal bullshit?"

"Because I'm begging," I say. "Because I look pathetic."

"You do."

"And it's probably embarrassing for you. How pathetic I look."

She shakes her head. "I'm enjoying it."

"I'll stay here." I reach for her hand. "If that's what you want."

"It would serve you right." She half-smiles. "After all the shit about my lipstick."

"It would."

"I should probably keep you here awhile. At least until your knees are aching."

"Okay."

Her smile widens. "You think I won't?"

"I know you will. But I also know you're merciful."

She makes that kinda gesture.

"You didn't throw my phone out the window."

"I would have."

"Really?"

"Maybe."

"I will stay here."

She looks down at me. "Okay." For a long time, she just stares at me.

I stare back at her.

The sounds from the party mix with the street beyond.

Pop music, laughter, conversation, engines, brakes, breeze.

My knees burn.

Then ache.

Concrete is fucking hard. These pants are thin. Ruined, now, probably.

But I don't care.

I need to talk to her. To explain. To fix this.

She makes me wait through two songs, then she nods okay, offers her hand, helps me up. "I don't want to go to your house."

Because my dad is there? Because it's where I sleep? Because we can't have loud sex against the wall with my father home? "How about we drive someplace nice?"

"Where?"

"The beach. Up in Malibu. It's a clear night. We can see the stars."

"That's a long way to go for an explanation."

"I know."

She stares at me for a moment, considering her options, then she nods okay and follows me to the car.

Patrick lives in Culver City. Just south of the ten and east of the 405. It's a long way from Malibu.

She knows that.

She's willing to give me that time.

That means something.

I put on her favorite album and find the nearest on ramp.

She's quiet as I take the ten to the 405 to the one.

The freeway empties as we pass the lights and sounds of the Santa Monica pier. Nothing but open road, dark sky, miles of ocean.

She loves the beach, loves the water, loves swimming.

The way I love drinking.

The way I loved drinking.

I don't know anymore. After six weeks of sobriety, the world is a different place.

Harder, colder, darker.

But somehow brighter and fuller too.

Luna sets her purse in her lap. She plays with the edges.

She's antsy too.

Because she doesn't want to be here with me?

Or because she does?

I try to think of something to say. Some way to start. But the words jumble in my throat.

There's too much.

Way too fucking much.

Eventually, I come to a quiet stretch of beach. Turn left. Pull into the empty parking lot.

Lorde's vocals fill the space as I cut the engine.

Luna turns the mirror toward her. Pulls her lipstick from her purse. Turns to me with a half-smile, half what the fuck is wrong with you. "Not a word."

I mime zipping my lips.

She just barely laughs. Shakes her head. That same you're deranged and I like it laugh of hers.

She looks to the mirror as she adds another coat of lipstick.

It's just us, in this car, on this empty beach.

Why the makeup?

Is she teasing me on purpose? Putting on a shield?

Fucking with me?

It's too hard, understanding another person.

Impossible.

And the only thing I want.

I want to know every part of her.

She drops the lipstick in her purse. Closes the latch. Places it in her lap.

"You want to stay in here?" It's a tiny space. There isn't enough room for how much I want her. "Or the sand?"

"It's freezing."

I slide