Unspoken Rules (Rules 2)

“You think this is big? You should see the one we have in Arizona.”

“Brag much?”

He smiles and holds out his hand to get me up from the couch. “Always, Kingston. Always.”

The tour goes by a lot quicker than I anticipated. When we reach the second floor, I’m astonished by the numerous closed doors surrounding me. Haze said that the house has nine bathrooms. Nine.

What the hell did the Adamses do with nine bathrooms?

“Where’s my room?” I ask.

He opens the door on his right. A bedroom. My eyes scan over the large room that’s obviously a boy’s. Probably his.

“You mean our room.”

My lips part.

“Oh, come on. You didn’t really think I’d let you sleep alone, did you? I mean… my house, my rules.”

The look on my face must be priceless because he starts laughing seconds later.

“Relax, I’m kidding. It gets cold around here. That’s the warmest room in the house, so it’s either that or pneumonia. But, hey, it’s your choice.” He puts his hands up.

Dang it.

“Look, I promise to stay on my side of the bed. Plus, it’s only for a few weeks. What are you afraid of?”

I bite my tongue so as not to talk back.

“So this is where you used to sleep, huh?” I change the topic.

“Yep.” He sits on the edge of a bed he knows all too well.

“Where are these clothes of yours?”

He gets up, walks to his dresser, and opens a drawer.

I can’t help myself. “Five bucks says it doesn’t fit.”

He arches an eyebrow, accepting the challenge, and reaches for a blue T-shirt in the bottom drawer.

“Oh my God.” I gasp.

“What?” He jumps a little.

“Colors!”

I catch his grin. “You’re an idiot.”

“What? It’s true. You never wear any. Do you actually own something other than black T-shirts?”

“Colors aren’t my thing,” he says.

“Could you be more of a Casanova cliché?” I roll my eyes.

“I mean, if you insist.”

He casually removes his shirt and throws it on the floor. I can’t help but pry my eyes away.