Following the Rules (The Script Club 1)

“What was that?”

“Now we’re even.”

I gaped comically, then adjusted my glasses. “No, no, no. That’s not how it works.”

“Sure, it is.”

“There are rules, Simon. I broke the rules.”

“What rules?”

I sighed. “Life rules! Your kiss doesn’t erase mine.”

“Yeah, it does. It’s science,” he declared.

Unbelievably, I laughed. “No, it’s not. Look, it was nice of you to come by. I appreciate it. You seem like a good guy, but—”

“No, you’re wrong. I’m a selfish bastard, and I need your help.”

“I can’t help you, but maybe I can help you find someone who—”

“It has to be you,” he insisted.

“Ugh!” I squeezed my eyes shut and massaged the bridge of my nose before righting my glasses and facing him like a warrior entering the battlefield. “Simon, I have no choice, but to be savagely honest. I can’t work for you because I…suffer from allergies when I’m around you.”

He squinted. “You’re allergic to me?”

“Technically no…but also yes.”

“O-kay. What are your symptoms?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Symptoms?”

“Yeah, do you sneeze, break into hives, lose feeling in your extremities?”

I nodded, then shook my head. “No. It’s more of a speech thing. I can’t talk and when I do speak, it comes out as gibberish. That is not okay.”

Simon smiled. “Gibberish is a great word.”

“Mmhmm. Yes, the etymology is rather fascinating. I looked it up once when I was bored and—whoa!” I covered my mouth in embarrassment and shook my head. “See? That’s what happens to me. I talk etymology.”

“Chill, Topher. I don’t mind.”

“You might not mind, but I do. And I can’t chill. I think I chilled too much last year, thinking I could skate by in my final year of grad school, and now look at me. I’m a mess.”

“Well, join the club. So am I.”

“You’re not a mess. You’re an athlete at a crossroads. You’ll be fine no matter where your path leads. If you don’t play football, you can teach it.”

“I think you mean coach, but I don’t want to coach,” he replied calmly.

“Then you’ll get your degree and choose another avenue. The possibilities are endless. You just need to be patient.”

“Hmph. Well, patience is not my virtue.”

“It’s not mine either, but I’m trying,” I huffed, sounding a tad desperate.

Unfortunately, Simon noticed. He furrowed his brow and patted the spot beside him meaningfully. “Something’s going on with you, and since you know way too much about me, it’s share time. Tell me all about you, Toph.”

I moved to the doorway, hoping he’d take the hint. “Well, if you must know, I lost an internship, and I need to replace it pronto. Working for you is a nice idea, but it’s also…distracting. I must stay on my game.”

“Is it distracting or is it me or…what? Be honest. My ego is extremely fragile at the moment, but I should probably know what douchey aspects of my personality I need to correct.”

“Oh, no. It’s not you, it’s me,” I insisted.

“Ouch. Not that line. It’s okay, I can take it. What’s wrong with me? Am I too dumb or too lazy? Do I lack focus or perspective?”

“No, it’s—”

“Lay it on me.” He stood abruptly and paced the length of the room and back again. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Every day that the phone doesn’t ring is another day in my head, and I’m slowly losing my mind. I don’t know how to fill the void, you know? And the truth is that I’m equally as afraid to get that phone call as I am of the silence. They want me, they don’t want me…it should be simple. It’s not. I’m damaged goods, and everyone knows it. The only way I can prove myself is if someone gives me a chance. But what if I blow my shot? One off day will ruin me. I’ve got this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that my career is over, and I’m just waiting around for bad news. So give it to me, Toph. Give me the bad news. Tell me what’s wrong with me.”

I was so startled by his outburst and the raw pain in his voice that I forgot to be nervous.

Unfortunately, I also forgot to use my filter.

“You’re too handsome.”

Simon stopped in his tracks and set his hands on his hips. “Huh?”

“Um…” I cleared my throat. “It’s not that, it’s…well, you’re too distracting, you live too far, and I like you too much. And you’re just too attractive.”

“Hang on.” He stood slowly and scratched the back of his neck. The movement stretched the snug fabric across his chest obscenely and gave me a peek at his V-line under his black nylon shorts. “Let me get this straight. You don’t want to help me because you like me.”

I nodded fervently. “Yes. I like you too much, and I can’t talk like a normal person when I’m around you. Haven’t you noticed?”