Page 43 of Rules

“I don’t want to intrude,” I say, looking around.

Is she alone in this mansion?

“Do you see anybody else in here besides me?” Jeanette asks but doesn’t actually leave me enough time to answer before continuing. “Take off your shoes and jacket. Do you have anything to change into? You’ll get pneumonia if you don’t get out of these wet clothes.”

“I don’t need…” I try to object, but of course, she doesn’t listen. She wouldn’t be Jeanette Sanders if she did.

“You’ll leave a wet trail all over the house and you’ll destroy Mother’s precious designer furniture. And although I’d like to see her face if you did, she’s not here and it won’t be half as fun without you around so…” she deadpans, not leaving me enough room to argue. “Come on up. I’ll give you something of mine to change into.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I repeat stubbornly. I’m not some charity case.

Jeanette rolls her eyes. “I’m not doing it for you.”

My chin tilts up. “Then why are you doing it?”

The silence stretches between us, but then her lips curl in a mocking smile. “Didn’t you hear what Max said when we met? Beneath all this cool exterior maybe lies a heart.”

I give her an exaggerated eye roll of my own but toe off my shoes and follow her upstairs. As we walk, the only sounds that can be heard are my wet feet squishing against the floor and the storm raging outside.

It’s kind of creepy if you think about it. The storm, dark house, the quiet… And I can’t help but wonder if this is her everyday life.

Once we get to Jeanette’s room, she grabs a change of clothes and shoves me into her bathroom.

Flicking on the light, she turns to me. I can see the exact moment she notices my face. Her lips part, an inaudible gasp leaving her lips as her eyes roam over the marks on my face.

The feeling of discomfort and shame returns in full force.

Shifting from one leg to the other, I run my fingers through my hair in hopes a strand will fall down and cover the bruise. “I wanted to go to Lia’s, but she’s at Derek’s since…”

“I see…” She nods her head, but her eyes still observe me intently.

What does she see? A little white trash girl who got what’s been coming to her all along? A pitiful creature who can’t take care of herself? An edgy girl who lives on the wrong side of town?

“You earned that at home?” She tilts her chin in the direction of my face.

I should have known she wouldn’t let it go that easily. Jeanette isn’t like that. No, she likes to pick and probe until she gets her answer.

“If you don’t want me here, I’ll go,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

It doesn’t matter. Stay or go, I’ll be fine, just like I always am.

A heartbeat passes. Two. Three.

We just stare at each other, and not for the first time I ask myself what she sees when she looks at me, because the more I look at her, the more similarities I find.

It’s a hard pill to swallow, admitting, if only to myself, that the two of us, for all our differences, might have something other than our stubbornness and wits in common.

Sighing in exasperation, I break our stare-off. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

I start toward the door, but once again her fingers curl around my wrist.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Jeanette says, letting go of my wrist. “I’m going to order some takeout.”

With that, she turns around and starts walking away.

I want to sigh in relief, but hold it in. Still, I can’t let her go just like that. She could have thrown me out on my ass, but instead, she was doing me a solid. The least I can do is play nice.

“Jeanette?”

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