Forgotten Rules (Rules 4)

“Is that why you brought me here? To make me mushy?”

He looks up and smiles.

“Nah. I brought you here for that.”

My mouth dips open when I catch the distant mingle of colors blending through the trees. We have a perfect shot of the rising sun from up here.

“Holy shit.”

“I know,” he whispers.

We don’t say a word for over five seconds.

“Can we just never leave?” I ask.

“We’re going to have to, eventually. Preferably before you turn into a block of ice.”

So, he noticed how cold I am.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

He doesn’t say another word, removes his jacket, that he found lying in the back seat of his car earlier, and drops it on my shoulders, no questions asked.

I heave a chuckle. “You’re the most confusing guy on earth, you know that? One second you’re talking about shagging in a tree, and the next you’re giving a girl your jacket.” I stare up at him. “I feel sorry for anyone who’s ever had the misfortune of falling in love with you.”

When the words escape my lips, a mix of emotions race through his eyes. Pain, annoyance, or is it… shame? He avoids my gaze, suddenly colder than I am.

“Trust me.” He pauses. “I’m sorry, too.”

Woah, do I smell a backstory?

Just as I’m working up the courage to ask, he rises to his feet. “It’s getting late. Or early. Whatever. We should go.”

He’s making his way back down before I can even attempt to adjust to his mood shift. Confused, I rear myself up, smooth my wrinkled, still-wet clothes down, and mirror his actions.

It’s past six a.m. when Will’s car comes to a slow stop in front of my house. I’m 99 percent certain my high is over, but then again, when we needed the GPS on the way back, I forgot my own address.

“Hey, you never answered me earlier,” I remind him.

Will pushes the gear into park, drops his head against the headrest, and sends a glance my way. He can barely keep his eyes open, just as exhausted as I am.

“You said you wanted to release me. But not from what.”

“From yourself,” he says like it should be obvious.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“All that pressure you put on your shoulders, this obsession you have of controlling everything, to please everybody, it’s eating at you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little planning,” I counter.

“Fine, don’t believe me. Keep it all bottled up. The quiet ones make the best explosions.”

Then, because this night isn’t absurd enough already, my genius self decides to add, “Is this a silent fart joke?”

Never mind, still high.

Will laughs quietly, shaking his head like he’s wondering what he’s going to do with me. His dark blue eyes mix with mine.