Page 58 of Rules

“Jeanette’s out with her friends. And Mom’s at one or another of her things. I’m not sure.”

He nods his head, still immersed in whatever's happening on his phone. “Right, I forgot. I think I’ll just crash in bed. Last night was brutal. See you in the morning?”

“Sure.” I stash my stuff in my pockets and pick up my gloves.

He turns around to leave but stops. “Oh, and Max? Please don’t forget about the Christmas charity event we’re attending. You know how much it means to your mother.”

“Right. Don’t worry; we’ll be there, Dad.”

“Okay. Night.”

“Night.”

* * *

“I thought you gave up on your stalking tendencies, Sanders.”

I chuckle, hurrying my steps to catch up to her. Brook didn’t even turn around, yet she knew I was there. Either I was that bad at “stalking”, as she liked to call it, or she had some super sensitive ninja abilities.

“I think I like the term ‘watching your back’ better. Stalking sounds invasive.”

“Then it sounds about correct.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t need to stalk you if you’d check your phone every once in a while.”

“I was working.” Brook shrugs, her little shoulders lifting beneath that too-big leather jacket.

Why the fuck is she wearing that thing in the middle of December in Michigan anyway? Yes, I can see a sweater peeking from underneath it, and there is a big fluffy scarf around her neck and shoulders, but just the idea of it is making me shiver to my bones. It’s freezing outside, and people are saying it’ll only get worse as winter continues. Even now, the snow is falling from the dark sky, and I can feel my cheeks burn from the cold.

Stuffing my hands deeper into my pockets, I ask, “Why do you even work in that dump?”

Although her back is turned toward me, obscuring her face, I can see her whole body stiffen at my words.

“Not all of us have rich daddies who’ll pay for our allowance,” she throws over her shoulder without stopping. “Some of us have to actually work if we want to… you know, live?”

Stopping in my tracks, I tilt my head back. Will I ever say something that won’t piss her off? Why is it that every time I think we’re moving forward, something happens to push us apart?

Rubbing my gloved hand over my face, I groan out loud. “Brook, I’m sorry.”

But of course, she doesn’t stay to listen. No, she’s rushing down the street putting that distance between us back in place.

“Brook, wait!” I run after her, almost slipping on the ice. I curse, regaining my balance, and manage to catch up to her in record time. Wrapping my hand around her wrist, I pull her back. Her body crashes into mine, the top of her head coming right underneath my chin. Frustrated, I puff out a breath, little white clouds coming out of my mouth.

“That was a dick thing to say.” I lean my chin on top of her head. “I’m sorry.”

The quiet descends upon us. It would almost be peaceful if it weren’t for this ever-growing tension between us. Her body is stiff against mine, both of us facing forward, but she doesn’t try to break out of my touch and run away again, so I take that as a blessing.

“What do you want, Max?” she sighs, breaking the silence.

“You didn’t answer my texts.” I shrug, although I know she can’t see me. “I saw you leave school with Lia and Jeanette. And after what happened…”

“Nothinghappened!” Brook protests, stomping her foot. “I don’t see why everybody is making such a big deal about it.”

Her words make my gut clench, but I push down the lump rising in my throat. Loosening my grip on her wrist, I let it slide down until her hand is clasped in mine.

“For somebody who considers herself smart, sometimes you’re pretty clueless.”

“I’m just stating the facts.”

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