Page 83 of Unspoken Rules

And what about Miss Mystery Tuesday Date Big Titties?

“We shouldn’t,” he says softly.

There’s a but after that. He doesn’t add it and I don’t ask. I ruin enough things. I don’t want to ruin this moment.

Do I ask about the girl though? I want to know. I should know. Not only for my sanity, but for my health. I don’t want him to think I’m a clingy, immature child. Which, maybe I am. Is being jealous over him going on a date with a woman make me that clingy immature person?

I don’t know. And I can’t think clearly enough to decide. So I say nothing about it.

Instead, I say, “I want to.”

He leans closer to me, brushing his lips over mine, but not kissing me. Just a whisper of a touch. His breath is warm on my skin, and I’m about to press forward to kiss him, but the unmistakable sound of creaking stairs breaks the silence.

Thank god for that third step from the bottom being loose.

Cole jerks away in just enough time for Chris to round the corner.

“Have a good night?” Chris says to me, entirely ignoring his father who walks to the door to check it, as if that’s what he was down here for. I watch him, his shoulders tense, as he turns to watch Chris staring at me. But all I can do is stare at him. And how fucked up this all is. Why do I think this is a good idea? Why am I pushing for something with Cole? I’m only going to get myself hurt. Pushing to be someone’s dirty little secret never ends well. “Bryson?”

I blink and turn my attention to Chris. “Sorry.” I chuckle. “Drank a lot.”

He throws his arm around my shoulder and leads me down the hall, entirely ignoring his father. Still. As Chris leads me toward the stairs, I look over my shoulder. Cole and I lock eyes. And I know this is going to be nothing less than a disaster.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Bryson

I feel Chris’s gaze on me the moment I step out of the revolving doors of the Flashfire Ad Agency building. He said he’d be waiting out front for me, and there he is. Chris has never let me down before, but I was worried. With everything going on, I can’t help but worry about him. Between the drinking—which he hasn’t done in over two weeks as far as I know—and the chance he could find out about me and Cole, I wasn’t sure he’d pull through. But there he is, waiting for me like he said he would be.

I told him he didn’t have to take a half day from work for this, that I could take a rideshare both ways, but he insisted. I think this is his way of trying to make up for the fight we had. Not that he needs to, but if it’ll make him feel better, I won’t stop him.

“So, how did it go?” he asks, drumming his hands on the steering wheel as I get in.

“Hard to tell, but I think it went well.”

He slaps me on the shoulder. “I’m sure it went great. When will they call you?”

“Said they have a few more interviews tomorrow, but they’re calling everyone on Friday.”

“Great! Just in time for you to celebrate getting the job at Mark’s show.”

“We’re going to that?” I question, raising a brow.

He drives off. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Wasn’t sure if you’d want to.”

I undo the top button of my shirt, feeling like I’m being choked. I’ll definitely have to go shopping for new clothes if I end up getting this job.

“I’m going to assume that’s because I’ll be around alcohol, but I’ll be fine. I’m telling you, it’s easier than I thought it was going to be.”

“Have you gone to a bar since you’ve stopped drinking?”

“No, but Cole has alcohol all over the house and I haven’t touched it.”

“So you’re not calling him Dad anymore?”

He shakes his head, and it takes him a long while to say anything to that.

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