Page 7 of Unwritten Rules

After we met and I texted him, he replied immediately. I got the first crush butterflies–considering I’d never had a boyfriend before. We texted for a couple of days and scheduled our first official date, making me even more nervous about getting into my next era of life. We agreed on being non-exclusive for a while after I told him some of my hesitations about getting into a serious relationship in college. Everything was fine.

He was kind and patient, which felt out of the blue from what I’d heard about other boys.

But what did I know?

He opened my door for me when we arrived at my house and, as promised, Kelly came barreling out of the front door to help with the bags.

“How’s Shane?” I teased her.

“He’ll be at the party. I’m so excited for us to double date. Thanks for taking care of my girl, Garrett! See you later!”

We waved him off and started our haul into the house.

The house we lived in was a very cute, quaint home that I purchased just far enough from campus to feel some separation. It was walkable, and one of the smaller neighborhoods in the Willow Bay area. We had enough space per house that each lot had a bit of outdoor space–space I wanted to fill with a garden and natural pool.

Our neighborhood was an old one, it was here for longer than the school had been. The architecture was old and traditional, speaking to the careful craftsmanship of the Victorian era. I felt at peace here with the non-symmetrical homes, steep roofs, and elaborate wood trim.

That was, when there weren’t house parties on the street. It made sense later why the older couple was willing to sell at a lower asking price.

I looked over at the newest house party–a predominantly male one–to see a bunch of them acting like fools in the front yard with beer and no shirts. Two of them were wrestling each other outside and it wasn’t clear if it was a play fight or not.

“What the hell are they doing?” I couldn’t help but stare.

Kelly laughed. “Being a bunch of cavemen, obviously.”

The two separated and reset their stances to prepare to collide again. The transition from wrestling to a fist fight had me leaning towards a real fight. The first guy with short, cropped brown hair took the first swing–a gnarly right hook–at the shaggy blonde and connected with his jaw. The guys around them cheered and hollered, encouraging the fight.

My eyes widened. “Dude, they’re fighting for real.”

The blonde one stumbled back and tried to correct his stance. He approached and attempted a few swings before landing an uppercut to the brown-haired guy.That looked brutal.

“Yikes,” she replied, becoming engrossed like I was.

A dark, leather jacketed figure leaned over the porch railing, throwing something into the scuffle, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Under his jacket, he had no shirt on, and his body wascoveredin tattoos. He was clearly enjoying the chaos.

“What the heck isthatone doing?” I pointed at him, trying not to stare.

She chuckled. “That one? Yeah, I can guarantee he’s the one who started the fight.”

I raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

Continuing, she said, “That’s Brent Vaughn. I’m only half surprised you don’t know him. Considering you didn’t come out of your hole last year, it makes sense.”

“Let me guess... he has a reputation of sorts.”

“Yup. Total jerk. Pretty ruthless one, too. Once at a party, he was confronted for sleeping with someone’s girlfriend–which he does often–and he pummeled the shit out of him for being confrontational. He’s the star of the baseball team–the dark star, that is.”

“Huh,” I said, picking up the last of the bags. “Some guys just love to be chaotic.”

I couldn’t help but look back at him on the porch, crossing my arms. He was laughing along with the fight with his friends. A deep and carefree laugh at the violence that made me wonder exactly how much chaos this guy liked. He flicked ash from his cigarette, pulling off ‘I’m a cool guy’ confidence.

He had barely any hair, exposing the tattoos that came up the side of his head and neck. It reminded me of a military boot camp buzz cut. Tattoos peeked out from everywhere, telling me this man was inked up to the max. I couldn’t tell how tall he was from here, but most people were taller than me standing at five foot six.

Kelly sighed, opening the door. “So sad that those good looks are wasted on the assholes.”

Before I stepped into the house, I turned to get one last look.Call me intrigued.

Brent’s gaze flicked over to me, locking eyes with mine and holding me in place. He brought the cigarette back to his lips to take a long drag, daring me to look away as his mouth leaked smoke and developed just enough of a smirk to let me know he caught me continuing to look at him. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, silently asking me what I was looking at.

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