Page 96 of Unspoken Rules

“Go, Cole. Just leave me alone.” There isn’t much fight to his words, which tells me he’s more disappointed than mad.

“I’m not leaving you alone.” I reach for him again. He shrugs me off harder.

“You need to.”

“I don’t want to,” I say softly.

He hangs his head, his shoulders sagging. I try touching him again—one hand on his bicep. And when he doesn’t shrug me off, I turn to him and wrap my arms around him, pulling him against me.

His forehead rests on my shoulder, and he sighs heavily.

“Had I known you were making me dinner, I wouldn’t have made plans.”

“That defeats the purpose of a surprise,” he mutters.

I smirk. “I understand that, but honestly, this isn’t something I expected from you.”

“I was just trying to be nice. Repay you for everything you do for me.” His words are muffled since he’s speaking into my shirt. He doesn’t hug me back, but he rests his weight against me as I hold him.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say.

“I want to.”

“Do you want to, or do you feel like you have to?”

He slowly looks up at me. Our eyes lock. He presses his palms to my sides, sliding them until they’re over my chest.

He swallows hard, and says, “I want to make you happy. Want to make sure you know you’re appreciated.”

I move my hands from around him to cup his face. “I don’t want you to ever think you have to do things for me because I do them for you. I enjoy doing things for you. It makes me happy. Taking care of you? I like that. I don’t do it because I want something in return. Do you understand?”

“I do,” he answers quickly. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t want to do stuff for you too.” I nod, running my fingers along his cheeks. He looks tired. Stressed. It’s been weeks since I’ve made him feel good. I don’t like that. “You really can go out.”

I shake my head. “No, I really can’t.”

Leaning forward, I brush his lips with mine. He makes the tiniest whimpering sound—and yeah, I’m not fucking going anywhere.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell him.

He nods, and I step out of the kitchen to make the call to cancel for tonight. When I return to the kitchen, he’s putting the pan of chicken parmesan into the oven.

I walk to him and lean my back against the counter. He looks at me and moves to the sink to wash the dishes.

“Was it the girl from the diner?” he asks suddenly, and I frown.

“No,” I answer honestly. “It was a work thing. But nothing that couldn’t wait for another day.” He nods, a bit of the tension leaving his shoulders. I hate that I’m about to bring it right back. I can’t make him feel better over something he shouldn’t feel better about. “But the girl from the diner. She… we have…”

He freezes and guilt chokes me.

“Recently?”

I grit my teeth, not wanting to tell him, but knowing I have to. “Yes.”

I won’t lie to him. I slept with Connie. I shouldn’t have, but I had to. I was worried if I didn’t, I would burst into Bryson’s room uncontrollably and Chris would really hate me. But Connie did nothing to make me not want Bryson. I thought it would help, but it didn’t. It only made me miss him more because she was nothing like him.

“So you two are dating now, or what?” he asks, pressing his palms to the counter and leaning forward.

Bryson takes a heavy breath, waiting for my response. When I don’t give him one right away, he opens the dishwasher to put the dishes inside. He’s trying to act like he isn’t bothered by this, but I see how much it hurts him.

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