Unbroken Rules (Rules 3)

Ding! You’ve reached your quotient of heartbreak for the rest of your life. Congrats.

“I’m so sorry it took me cheating on you to understand that, but… Maybe we can still be friends.”

That’s the last straw.

I can’t think straight. I slap him. Hard. I don’t feel bad. Not even in the slightest. How dare he mention the word “friend”?

He clenches his jaw. “I deserved that.”

I carry myself to the door, footsteps heavy, eyes full of tears. With my back facing him, I choke on words I don’t mean.

“I never want to see you again.”

I have to mean these words. I need to. It’s not registering. That he betrayed me in the worst possible way. That he went back to being the guy he was when we met that first day in the hall. His redemption is gone. Forever.

I rush out of the room to see Vic sitting on the couch with a beer in hand. I know that he heard the whole thing from the wrenching pity displayed by his features. I’m out of their rat hole in a heartbeat. Deep down, I expect him to follow me. To tell me he didn’t really sleep with that ginger girl. Simply because that’s what he would’ve done before. That’s what the Haze I thought I knew would’ve done.

But this Haze doesn’t.

And, as I walk down the hall alone, I know he never will.

23

One Last Lie

I always loved to believe that there was some sort of limit to the amount of bullshit the universe could drop on a person. I liked to think someone up there was keeping scores and saying, “Woah. Okay, guys. Ease up on the poor fella before he gives up on humanity.”

What happened to me in the past few weeks is proof that I was wrong. There is no such thing as a limit of bad luck per person, and for as long as you’re alive, you shall get served.

Barely keeping myself awake through the most boring class of all time, I debate on getting up and walking out right in the middle of my professor’s lecture. Barely twenty minutes in, I knew I’d made a mistake by going back to school. Journalism isn’t for me. Truth is, I have no clue what is for me, and that’s okay. The answers are out there, I’m sure of it.

But I won’t find them here.

Haze’s sudden transformation into a human trash can incited me to reconsider many of my decisions. It gave me a whole lot of alone time, time that I admittedly needed to come to terms with my existential crisis and understand that when something feels wrong, it usually is.

It’s been around eleven days since Haze cheated on me. I think counting the days is part of my defense mechanisms, my uncanny way of coping. I give myself a pat in the back for every day I get through without crying. God, I hate what heartbreak has turned me into.

Haze will be staying at Vic’s until I move out at the beginning of December. We only talked once, and by talked, I mean we texted, and by we, I mean he texted and I ignored. He said he’ll be paying the rent in full this month. That I’m welcome to stay there until I move back into my childhood home with lovely Lauren.

Bitch, after what you did to me, don’t mind if I do.

Kendrick will also be moving in with Allie soon. We had to pay a huge fine to the landlord for severing the lease. It cost us three months’ rent up front, which, even split in three, dug a gigantic hole into my savings.

Allie and Kendrick were as surprised as me t

o find out Haze cheated. The whole world was, to be honest. You’d think a guy who chases a girl’s forgiveness for days on end wouldn’t drop her as soon as she gives it to him. It took both Allie and me to stop Kendrick from driving over to Vic’s and beating up Haze to defend my honor. To think these two were finally starting to like each other. I’m guessing we’ll never know what happened. What changed for him to stop loving me overnight.

Mr. Spit telling us to complete a forty-page paper for next week is my cue. Nope. I’m out. I gather my things in the middle of the assignment description, throw my coat on, and walk out of the classroom without a care in the world. My plan for today is simple: get coffee, go visit my dad at the hospital, and finally, try and come up with a good enough reason to give him if he ever wakes up. He’ll want to know why I dropped out of school and… I doubt that life sucks will cut it.

When I step into the apartment that won’t be mine for much longer, I shake off the chills skittering down my coat and remove my boots. I’ve really got to get a full-time job and buy myself a car. Kendrick is practically always at work or at Allie’s nowadays, which makes it hard to hitch a ride to the hospital. I had to get a cab today due to the long distance and crazy snowstorm. No changes in my dad’s state, but we’re still hopeful.

Hanging my coat, I frown at the absence of my overexcited pup. Waze is always—literally always—waiting for me by the door. A frown creases my forehead when unidentified noises erupt in the distance.

“Kendrick, you home?” I turn the corner and quickly understand why my baby wasn’t waiting for me. He’s already all over someone else—the last person I wanted to see.

Haze is standing in the living room, playing with Waze—I think I’ll have no choice but to change his name. Dangling off his arm is a gym bag full of clothes. He probably came to get the last of his stuff. He usually comes when I’m in school. I know because I notice his belongings disappearing from the apartment bit by bit along with the smell of his cologne and every trace of our love.

When he notices me, I pray that he won’t talk to me. Or even look at me. I don’t want to have to be civil. I want him to disappear until I forget the sound of his voice.