Page 100 of Unspoken Rules

The air changes when we enter the house. It’s almost like I don’t know what to do. It’s strange being here knowing Chris won’t be. That it’s only me and Cole now.

I glance at Cole, who is looking at me.

“I’ll empty the dishwasher, then I’m going to bed,” I say as I move down the hall.

“I can handle the dishwasher.”

I turn into the kitchen and hear him behind me. “You bought ice cream.”

“You made dinner.”

“You make dinner every other night,” I retort.

“We’ll do it together then.”

I sigh and relent. We put the dishes away quickly with the both of us doing it.

“Are you tired?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Probably going to do some work. Maybe go for a swim.”

A swim sounds good.

Actually, what really sounds good is a wet and mostly naked Cole.

But I already said I was going to bed, so I don’t want to be weird and say I want to swim now too. Don’t want to be too needy or clingy. Cole isn’t my boyfriend. Not even close.

Curse my bedroom for being at the front of the house. If he’s going to swim, I could watch. Though I could sneak into Cole’s room and look out the window. I bet he wouldn’t even notice.

Bryson, that’s creepy.

Yeah, it totally is.

I rub the back of my neck. “Well, uh… good night.”

He nods. “Good night, Bryson.”

I head up to my room, strip to my underwear, and get into bed. I put the TV on, knowing I won’t go to sleep right away, but maybe watching something will bore me enough to shut my mind down.

I hate how much of a dick my father is.

I never thought of having kids myself. Never thought of being with someone long term enough to do that. I’ve spent so much time focusing on school and figuring out where to go in life. Talking to people is hard. I’m socially awkward at best. But I do know if I ever have kids, there is no way I’d treat them the way my father treats me. They won’t even know my father either. There is no way I’d allow him to damage them the way he’s damaged me. I wish being aware of how much he’s messed me up was enough of a cure. Like accepting it somehow fixes it. That I could just say “hey, your father is the reason you think you suck, so just don’t believe it because he’s an asshole.”

But it’s not that simple. It’s embedded in me. A part of me. His words live in the back of my head, making me doubt myself always. If I mess up on something, it’s him telling me I’m not good enough. Sometimes I’m doing nothing and feel totally fine, then there it is. His voice bitching about something. And the fucked up part is I don’t think this will ever go away.

My father is the villain in my story, tainting everything I love with his negativity. Whatever I like, he hates. Whatever I want to do, he thinks is wrong.

I’m a fucking failure in his eyes, and the longer I go through the life, the more I see what he sees. It’s the exact opposite of how it should be. Being away from him? It should make me better. And maybe things will be easier now that I have this job. But even though I’m excited, I can’t help being worried that I’m going to fuck this up too.

This is a big deal. The first job I’ve had out of college. This very well could be the thing that proves him wrong. And even though proving him wrong won’t make a difference, I need to do it for me. If I held this job for years and made it to the top of the ladder, it still wouldn’t be enough for him. Because I’m not some hot shot fancy lawyer with a degree from Harvard, as if that makes a difference. Shouldn’t he just be proud I’m not in jail or something? That I went to college at all?

And because I’m feeling bad for myself, it’s impossible to ignore Cole when he texts, telling me the pool is lonely without me.

Chapter Forty

Bryson

How am I ever going to say no to Cole when Chris isn’t around? How am I going to convince myself not to be with Cole, when Chris has been nothing but a dick? How does my brain argue with itself? One part feels protective and loyal to Chris. Another part is pissed at him and doesn’t care about his opinion. He’s made it clear he doesn’t respect me—why should I respect him? How can my brain work against itself? I’m one person—shouldn’t I have one way of thinking?

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