Page 55 of Unspoken Rules

But with all that said, I am going to do things a little differently. I’m going to keep most of these aspects, but I’m changing it up a little and not going with the blue. I will, however, use a blue-grey, because I plan to use slate greys, white, and a bit of yellow in his color scheme to match with the harp. Grey and blue can work together, so I think it will be fine in this instance.

I make a short list of things I’ll need from Cole, like an image of work and someone to give a quote or a rating to showcase on the welcome page.

I go into the development page and start editing—picking the color scheme and the overall look of things. I find a random photo on my computer to test transitions. I’ll save whatever I do but won’t publish it yet. Once I have everything I need from Cole, along with his approval, I’ll hit the publish button.

Shouting from downstairs catches my attention and I bring my gaze to the door. I can’t hear what they’re saying, just that someone is yelling. I’m guessing it’s Chris. He has a temper. I’ve never heard Cole yell at anyone. The shouting gets louder and more frequent, so I raise the volume on my music to drown it out. I’ve got most of the basics done with the site when Chris’s door slams so hard I hear it over “Headache” by Motionless in White.

I shake my head, letting out a sigh, and keep working.

It’s none of my business, I tell myself.

I glance at my phone that’s lying on the bed beside me. My fingers itch to pick it up and text him. I should make sure he’s okay. They were screaming at each other, so obviously there are some strong feelings being shared. High emotions.

Nope, none of my business.

I go back to work but can’t focus. So I snatch my phone up and send the text.

Because sometimes people need to know someone is there…

Me: Are you okay?

The moment I send it, I toss my phone to the bed, not expecting a response. He’s obviously pissed and has no reason to talk to me about any of this.

But it lights up, telling me he responded.

Cole: Not really.

That hurts my fucking heart. Cole is a good man. He’s an amazing father. Chris has never done anything like this before. Why is he doing it now? Isn’t the time to rebel in his teen years? Shouldn’t he have done this during the divorce? Why is he acting like a child now? And the biggest thing, what’s really pissing me off, is Chris has seen the way my father treats me. Isn’t that enough to make him appreciate and respect his father?

Me: Is there anything I can do to help?

It’s meant to be innocent. Completely innocent. There isn’t the smallest part of me that is hinting toward anything. I feel bad Cole is upset over his son being an asshole. I know what it’s like to want someone’s attention and not get it. To want love from someone but get the worst parts of them instead. Cole is going through the same thing, only backwards with his son. Chris is being stupid. But the text that comes in from Cole leaves me speechless.

Cole: Yeah. Come suck my dick.

Chapter Twenty-One

Bryson

My heart pounds in my chest as I stare down at my phone, certain I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.

Cole wants me to suck his dick?

No fucking way.

This has to be a joke. Or a mistake. He must have meant to send that to someone else. There is no way he could actually want me to suck his dick. I mean, sure, I already did, but that was a one-time thing. I was sure he’d forgotten about it with the way he’s been acting toward me. And now? Right now? Here, in his house?

Chris is home. It’s Sunday morning!

I check the small bit of chat we have, needing to make sure it’s Cole. It definitely is. The login info for the website is right there.

Is this a test? Does Chris have his phone and is fucking with me to see if he can trust me? There’s no way he knows I have a crush on his dad. I’ve never spoken those words out loud. Not to a single person. Hell, I don’t even think them when I’m around Chris.

I don’t know what to do.

If this were anyone else, I’d be off my ass and in that room. But this is Cole Harper.

My best friend’s dad.

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