Page 33 of Rules of Association

Paulo didn't mind. In fact, it didn't even slow him down.

“In your eyes, Ceci. Keep up. You are such a slow girl.” He swiped the stamp thing back again.

“Oh my God! All you do is tell me what I am and aren’t, like you know me or something.” I growled, swiping it back again. “Since you know so much about me, can you tell me what you think Ishouldbe doing, because it sure as hell isn’t standing here with you.”

“Is that your question?” Swipe.

“I’m still not asking you anything.” Swipe.

“You seem to be asking me everything. What you should do, who you should be, why? It is leaking all over the place through your eyes and yet you sit here with me and your sorella and I can tell you do not care about this. Shouldn’t you be figuring out what you care about?” Swipe.

“Doesn’t it look like I’m trying?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, girl. I am too old for that”

“You’re too old for that earring too, just saying.”

He glared. “If you are not ready to see it, then you are not ready to see it. I can’t help you there. But if you are going to work in my shop, for the day, for the hour, even for the minute, you are going to do it correctly. Now stop with the stamping girl. I told you yesterday the way I wanted them and you are ruining everything.”

“It was days ago,” I grumbled, and he glared. So I added. “And I was doing it just like you told me to!”

“No! If you were looking with your eyes you would see that you have them facing to the right. I need them to the left. Do it right or get out.”

“It’s only a centimeter off.”

“If it's off, it's off. Do it right or get out,” he repeated.

And I couldn’t get mad at him. Because wasn’t that how I’d been feeling this entire week?

If it was off it was off.

And if one thing was becoming abundantly clear,Iwas off.

So fucking off.

Chapter Eight

CONNOR

“Dude, I know you want to, like, marry a robot one day, but can you stop checking your phone for maybe one minute?” Clay asked as he sat across the room from me looking absolutely ridiculous.

He was standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding a bright light over the countertop as our little sister positioned a slice of cake in various poses and snapped photos of it. The scene may have been at least semi-normal if his eyes weren’t covered with dark sunglassesindoors.

“A robot could be doing that for you right now, but instead you just look like an idiot,” I said.

“Excuse me for pointing out how much you've been ignoring us,” he grumbled, nodding toward my phone curled in my hand. “You haven’t put that thing down in hours.”

I sighed at his pouting. Honestly, you would think I was the older brother sometimes. Tipping my own chin across the room, I said, “Clint’s on his tablet.”

“Clint’sworking. You’re supposed to be picking out a restaurant.”

“It’s Clint’s turn—” I started, and as I raised my eyes up to my brother and sister, I caught them silently shaking their heads in wide-eyed horror at my words. I winced, slipping my eyes over to Clint just in time to see him cut an annoyed glance our way.

“Nice try, it’s my turn,” he said. “It’ll be good this time.”

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