Forgotten Rules (Rules 4)

“Oh, wait, you are my girlfriend.” He snorts.

“Will, come on, we need to go.” I move closer, grasping his arm. “They’re going to call the cops on you.”

Why doesn’t this place have freaking bouncers?

He shakes me off him, irritated.

“What are you doing here, control freak?”

The nickname stings me skin-deep. This is the first time he’s called me that with a negative undertone.

“Stopping you from landing a criminal record, that’s what.”

“Why? I thought you were done with me,” he hisses.

I pause.

“What are you talking about?”

“Isn’t that what your message said? That you wouldn’t text me anymore? That you were going to…” He makes quotation marks with his fingers. “Drop my shit at Alex’s?”

Fuck.

Is that why he’s acting out?

My text?

“Whatever, I’m over you. You can go now.” He shows me the door, taking a swaying step forward and nearly tripping.

I hold him up. “Look at you. You can barely walk. Let me take you home.”

“Can’t. Don’t have one. But you know what I do have?” He stares me dead in the eyes. “A junkie mother who likes to OD in motel bathrooms.”

It feels like he just wrenched a knife into my chest.

“Shit, that’s right, you knew that already.” He heaves a bitter laugh. “My bad. I’ll be more careful next time you follow me against my will.”

I can’t get into this with him right now.

“You’re coming with me.” I tug on his arm.

He won’t budge. “Like hell I am.”

In one last, desperate attempt to save his ass,

I cup his face, forcing our eyes to meet. “Look at me. If you stay here, you’re going to get arrested, do you get that?”

They could charge him with underage drinking, disorderly intoxication, disorderly conduct. The list goes on and on.

“Will, I’m begging you.”

He clenches his jaw, maintaining the eye contact, debating between options for a few seconds. Then he says the single most beautiful word I’ve heard all night.

“Fine.”

“One last step,” I caution, using the little strength I have left to help Will up the stairs. The guy is far from a lightweight. As soon as we got to Morgan’s house, I knew I needed to put him to bed. He was talking nonsense the entire ride home, rambling on about how he didn’t need my help. Or anyone’s help. That he never did before.

And wouldn’t start now.