Page 34 of Unspoken Rules

“Where’s Chris?” I ask Mila, looking around.

She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs, “Inside.”

I groan internally, giving her a side hug and head into the house to look for him. Her response tells me he’s up to no good.

There are even more people in here, liquor bottles all over the kitchen counters and table. I didn’t think this would be a full-on party.

This house was Mark and Mila’s parents’ house, but they passed away when we were in high school. The twins lived with their aunt for a while, but once they turned eighteen, they got the house and have been here ever since. As far as I know, they don’t plan on moving or getting rid of it.

I make myself a drink—rum and cola—then go in search of Chris, so I can let him know I made it.

I check the entire downstairs and don’t find him anywhere, which means only one thing.

He’s upstairs.

Where the bedrooms are.

Damnit, Chris.

Now I know why Mila wasn’t happy when she told me where he was. If he’s hooking up with someone in her house, I’m going to be pissed. That’s a low blow no one deserves.

Mark and Mila living together is quite a surprise, considering their lifestyles are so different. Last I knew, they had a ton of rules in place that they both follow, no matter what. One of them is that Mila gets the downstairs to herself, and it’s off-limits to everyone. The space isn’t big, just the basement that was finished up, but it’s enough for her. Complete with a full bathroom and small kitchen. Another rule was only one party a week, but if I remember correctly, that’s since changed because once a week is a lot. Now that Mila works full time, I can’t imagine her being okay with this many people being here so often. I also think it’s Mark’s responsibility to clean all this shit up, since he’s the one who throws the parties. Mila is the bookworm; Mark is the rock star.

I head upstairs, going to the right. Mark took over his parents’ old bedroom, which is the master bedroom to the left. There’s all but one door open up here. So if Chris isn’t in this room, I have no idea where he is. I knock, and don’t get a response, so I put my ear to the door to listen. There’s some grunting. Not sure if it’s Chris, but if not, I’ll apologize and move on. If it is, he’s going to get an earful because what the actual fuck is he doing?

I twist the knob and push the door in, and yep. There’s Chris lying on the bed with a girl on his dick. It’s barely four. How is he this drunk already? Honestly, that better be his excuse. Because if he’s doing this shit sober? I’m not sure what to think about that.

“Christopher,” I bark at him. He turns his head toward me lazily and smirks. “What the fuck are you doing?” I snap.

The girl turns toward me, winks, and grabs her tits.

I scoff and bring my attention back to Chris.

“He ain’t interested in you, babe,” he says to her, smacking her ass.

“Oh? Do I get to watch some guy on guy action?” she responds.

“Don’t be gross,” I snap.

“I’m offended,” Chris barks out.

“What the fuck are you doing? Mila is downstairs.”

“Yeah, and?” Chris says, holding onto the girl’s hips to keep her in place.

She’s still riding him, and I swear to god, if he comes while I’m standing here, I will knock him the hell out.

“Don’t play dumb, Chris,” I seethe.

“There’s nothing going on with me and Mila. She knows it. I know it. Now, if you don’t mind?” He shoos me with a flick of his wrist.

I can hardly contain my anger. But I do, because I don’t want to make a scene in this house.

“When you catch herpes, don’t come crying to me,” I hiss as I slam the door shut. The girl screeches some annoyed sound. I suck down my drink as I stand outside the door. The second it’s done, I hurry downstairs to make another because after what I just saw? I need it.

The amount of people in this house is making my skin crawl, but I make my way through them and to the kitchen where I go heavy on the rum when pouring my drink.

“Bryson, right?” I look to my left and find a vaguely familiar looking guy standing there.

---