Unwritten Rules (Rules 1)

His eyes widen.

“Really?”

“No.” I slam the door in his face.

“And they say I’m mean,” he says from the other side.

I suppress a laugh. “Good night, Haze.”

“Good night, Kingston.”

The sound of his footsteps fade out down the hall, a sign that he’s going to bed, too. I quickly throw on the clothes he got for me and, just like I expected, they make me look like I’m wearing a potato sack. I can’t help but wonder how the hell I went from bored and drunk at the party to sleeping in Haze Adams’s guest room. As I crawl up under the cold covers, my eyelids so heavy it’s a miracle I didn’t fall asleep midconversation, I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the all-powerful leader of the West Side isn’t as bad as he’d like people to think he is.

MY EYES FLY OPEN AT THE sound of a door closing. My vision takes unbearably long to adjust to the light. I glance around the white room as questions invade my brain. Where am I? How did I end up here? What happened? I rub my heavy eyelids, looking down at the clothes I’m wearing, and my memories come rushing back.

I’m at Haze Adams’s house. He saved me yesterday. I’d hoped that this was a dream. Or should I say, a nightmare. I wince at the pounding in my head. Alcohol and I do not get along. I reach for my phone on the bedside table. Problem is, there’s nothing to reach for.

Where the hell is my phone?

Panic takes over me. I get out of bed, my mind racing. Haze is the one who took it. It has to be. I throw on the clothes I was wearing yesterday, neatly fold his T-shirt and sweatpants and step out of the room. No one. I can’t hear a single sound. The house seems empty.

Haze didn’t leave, did he? I need to get home before my aunt calls the police and files a missing person’s report. I go down the stairs. Still no sign of Haze. I enter the spacious living room, taking in my s

urroundings.

“You must be Winter.”

I jump, startled, and quickly turn my head to see a guy looking at me. Casually sitting on the leather couch, he’s analyzing me carefully. I instinctively bring my hand to my chest as if it’ll somehow steady my frantic heartbeat.

“I’m Tanner. Haze’s my baby bro.” He stretches his arms and flexes his muscles, making me want to roll my eyes. Yeah, definitely in the same family these two. Tanner seems older than Haze—maybe twenty-two—but I can totally see it: the smirk, the messy hair, the muscled body. Tanner’s hair is darker and his eyes are green, but apart from that, he has that same “I’m going to break your heart and destroy your innocence” look to him.

Guess it runs in the family.

“Hi.” I shift uncomfortably. “Where’s Haze?”

“You just missed him, actually.” I think back to the slammed door that woke me up. If I’d just been up ten minutes earlier, I could be on my way home right now.

“He had an emergency,” Tanner adds. “Told me to tell you not to go anywhere. He’ll be back soon.”

I curse under my breath. God damn it, Haze. Sticking around for breakfast wasn’t part of the plan.

Although, I must say I am not at all surprised that he went and did exactly what he promised not to do.

“This might sound weird, but have you seen my phone by any chance?”

“Yeah. Haze took it. Said it was to make sure you waited for him.”

Bastard.

“Oh. Well, I really have to go. I think I’ll just walk.” I nervously fidget with the fabric of my clothes, wondering how the hell I’m going to find my way back home.

He tenses up. “I can’t let you do that.”

“What am I? A hostage?” I force a laugh and spot the closest exit.

The seriousness in his eyes dissipates gradually. “Listen, I don’t know what my brother wants with you, and you clearly don’t either. So why not stick around and find out?”

I sigh. I guess I don’t have much of a choice. Plus, as crazy as it may sound, something about the way his eyes darkened when I tried to leave tells me he’s not the right person to mess with.