Unwritten Rules (Rules 1)

After Haze left me speechless, he started walking and told me, “Let’s get you home,” like it was nothing. I have no idea if he meant what he said. But I can’t deny that it’s been on my mind ever since.

Everything about him is so incredibly confusing. He’s like burning ice—might be cold, might be hot. You never know which one you’re going to get.

I ask him to stop a couple of houses before mine, and he nods. My aunt would lose it if she saw me get off the back of some guy’s motorcycle.

“Thanks for taking me home.” I get off his bike, removing my helmet.

“And?” He does the same.

I give in, a bit amused. “For not leaving me to die in front of some abandoned factory.”

“That’s a weird way to end a first date, but I’ll take it.”

My eyes widen. “Did you just say the D word?”

A perverted smile spreads across his face.

“Oh for God’s sake, not that D word.”

“We had coffee, we talked. So yes, it was a date.”

“Only because I was trying to get you to do me a favor—did you forget that part?”

“Good reasons or not, it still happened, Kingston.” His fingers slip into his pocket. He hands me something. My phone. “There. You might need it next time you do something stupid like rush out onto the street alone at night.”

“Or next time I’m trying to run away from you,” I say. He smiles. “Gotta go. Time to get grounded for the rest of my life.”

“Hold on.”

I turn around.

“You may want to cover up before you go in there and pretend you were out studying,” he says, analyzing me from head to toe. He bites his lower lip slightly, then looks away.

I flush, ignoring the thick tension that suddenly decides to bless us with its presence. My gaze drops to my dress. He’s right. Whatever excuse I find to justify my absence, Maria’s not going to buy it if she sees me walk into the house wearing this.

He removes his jacket and hands it to me.

“Here. Take it.”

“You don’t have to,” I say.

“Don’t worry about it. Call it a guarantee.”

“Guarantee of what?”

He smirks.

“That I’ll see you again.”

I don’t reply, unable to find the words to say, and take the leather jacket from his hand. He starts the engine and looks at me one last time before disappearing down the street in a roar that echoes long after he’s gone.

I find myself smiling when I glance down at the jacket in my hand and put it on.

It smells like him.

For a short-lived moment, I almost forget about the million questions Maria’s going to ask me as soon as I walk through the front door. What am I going to say to her? The closer I get, the stronger the urge to run in the opposite direction becomes. Her car is in the driveway. All the lights are on even though it’s close to midnight. She’s probably waiting for Kendrick and me to come home.

Problem is, Kendrick’s not coming home anytime soon. And something tells me I’m going to have a hard time justifying it.