Forgotten Rules (Rules 4)

s. I put on the performance of a lifetime pretending like the two of them disappearing this close to graduation wasn’t sketchy as hell. I’ve also been taking extra shifts at the pet store. It’s not like I have much to do after school anymore.

“Still no news?” Morgan picks up on my disappointment.

“None,” I mutter.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you two? The guy is head over heels into you one second, then the next, he just vanishes. Something doesn’t add up here.”

I wince. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been dying to share what happened with her, but that’s not my story to tell.

Just as it wasn’t my story to know.

At least, not yet.

Perhaps if I hadn’t tried to force it out of him, he would’ve told me eventually. But on his own terms.

And when he was ready.

“All I can tell you is I broke his trust,” I say, as vague as I can be. “I fucked up. Bad.”

It’s been five days. Maybe it’s time I take a hint. Stop checking my phone every two seconds. Stop hoping his name will pop onto my screen. In my defense, it’s hard not to think about him. I still have one of his hoodies.

He left it at Morgan’s.

In fact, I’m wearing it right now. I glance down at my outfit. This simple piece of clothing triggers a foreign reaction in me. I strip off the hoodie, grab my phone, and turn it back on while assuring Morgan it’s the last time.

He has every right to never want to talk to me again, but I need closure. I’ll die before recreating my breakup with Blake.

Kass: I just want you to know that I get your reaction. I would do the exact same thing, and I promise I won’t blow up your phone anymore. I’ll drop your hoodie at Alex’s sometime this week.

Then I shut off my phone.

“Kass, wake up.”

It’s the middle of the night when someone shakes me out of slumber. In a daze, I groan, barely peeling my eyes open and blinking my senses back to life.

“Wait. Alex, slow down.”

Morgan.

She’s talking to Alex?

The memories come rushing back, knocking me awake and alert—right, I’m spending the night at Morgan’s place. The room is pitch-black. I can barely discern my half-asleep best friend sitting on the edge of her bed, phone pressed to her ear. I check the clock on her desk. 2:06 a.m., the red digits display. We went to bed at midnight. No wonder I feel weary.

“What’s going on?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.

Morgan puts the call on speaker, and instantly, Alex’s deep, panicked voice rings through the darkness.

“Is Kass with you?”

What the…

“Yeah, she’s here. Why?” Morgan is cold as ice.

Still having trouble in paradise, I see.

It’s a trend these days.

“I’ve tried calling her a million fucking times. I need to talk to her.”