Forgotten Rules (Rules 4)

But what I definitely don’t expect…

Is to find William Martins lying on my bed.

I screech so loud I scare myself, backing away too fast and slipping on God knows what. I fall on my ass, bumping my head on my dresser in the process because why not? Laughter instantly pours out of Will.

“Damn. I’m that scary?”

Dazed, I rub the back of my skull and look up, discerning his broad-shouldered silhouette a few steps away. Snickering, he offers me his hand.

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting you off the ground. How hard did you hit your head?” he mocks, driving his hand closer, which I reject, getting up on my own.

“No, as in here. What are you doing here? In my room?” I grimace, my fingers skimming over the small bump on my head. That’s when the humiliating aspect of it all catches up to me. My cheeks redden. “You… You made me fall.”

“Yeah, I tend to have that effect on women.”

Someone give me the strength not to hurt this man.

“How did you even get in?”

“Want to tell me why you lied to me earlier?” he deflects.

I give him a look I can only describe as an “Are you for real?” look. When he realizes I’m not going to entertain him, he runs his finger across my desk and inspects the tip for dust.

“I saw you. You just left, Kendrick—”

“Kendrick thinks I left,” he corrects, scanning the rest of my room carefully before nodding like he’s made up his mind. “Your room is so clean it scares me.”

“Will! Answers,” I urge.

“Do you even sleep here? Is this an IKEA commercial and nobody told me?”

I can’t tell if it’s because I’m deliriously exhausted or because I actually find his dodging of my questions amusing, but I find myself smiling. Trying to understand what he’s doing in my room is pointless. That’s Will. My guess is he left for show and sneaked back into the house after my brother dashed down the street.

Lacking the necessary energy to fight him, I switch off the lights, crawl into bed, and pull up Netflix. I always fall asleep watching something, whether it be a show or movie. Been doing it for as long as I can remember.

Next thing I know, Will’s lying right next to me. Faking carelessness, I flip to the opposite side. The room is dark, its only source of light the lamp in the hall, which peeks under my closed bedroom door. I forgot to turn it off. Got busy squeezing a concussion in my schedule instead.

“What are we watching?” His breath fans my cheek.

My body tenses.

When the hell did he get this close?

He’s right behind me, hard chest pressed to my back. We’re not spooning exactly, but a few more inches and we would be.

“Are you ignoring me?” he says in a husky voice.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” I say, sounding a bit strangled.

“Sure. If you tell me what’s wrong.”

This again.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Spare me the bullshit. The look on your face when you came into the house already betrayed you.”