Page 63 of Against The Rules

“It’s not different.”

“I know you don’t like him. I get it. But he’s… he’s just going through some stuff right now.” She fiddles with the icy puddle around her glass, and I sigh.

“You know how you just told me you want me to be happy and healthy? I want the same for you. I promise. I just want you to be okay. I want my friend.”

“Don’t you dare fucking cry,” Presley says, glaring at me. “I did not put on eyeliner this morning to cry it off.”

I laugh. “Okay, I won’t cry. Right now. No promises for later.”

“What movie did you pick for after we do your highlights?”

“You don’t want to tell me what to do about Ty?” I ask, surprised by the conversation change.

“Sav, I don’t have a clue what to tell you to do about that.” She laughs. “But if he makes you happy, and it’s not like… I don’t know, a weird toxic mess, then why not just see where it goes? I always did say you needed a little more spontaneity in your life.”

“That’s true.”

“I didn’t mean for you to get married in Vegas when I said that, though.”

“Shut up,” I say, throwing a chip at her.

She surprises us both by catching it in her mouth. Both our hands fly into the air.

“Victory!” I screech.

“Touchdown!” Presley manages between chewing.

Ah, girls’ night. This is exactly what I needed. Queso, margaritas, and a good friend. The trifecta. That is, until Presley’s phone rings. Her face pinches as she picks up, quietly walking to her room without a word to me. I swallow hard.

I don’t have to be a psychic to know that it’s Trent calling. I sigh and pour Presley’s drink into my cup.

She won’t need it.

Her door opens quietly after a moment, and she stares at me forlornly. “I need to go help him.”

“Go,” I tell her. “Be safe.”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

We both know it’s not enough.

“It’s fine,” I say.

When she leaves, I stare at the queso for a long time.

CHAPTER 27

TYLER

I should be with Savannah right now. I was supposed to be with her tonight. My group text with Luke and Ben’s been silent as hell, and usually that wouldn’t bother me, but Jacob and I have been avoiding each other as much as possible around the house.

I don’t love being alone, even if Dr. Kim says I should work on accepting periods of quiet reflection.

So when my phone rings, I practically sprint to where it’s plugged into the wall, then immediately regret it as my damn hamstring locks up.

I grab the phone, then manage to practically fumble it as it pops free of the charger.

“Real smooth,” I say to myself. Some kind of athlete I am.

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