Page 36 of Against The Rules

Not too glam. Not too over-the-top. Girlfriend next door. Parent-approved lightly stained cheeks and lips, a little eyeliner and mascara.

My phone vibrates against my nightstand as I tug the dress over my head, pleased all over again that Presley picked it out, that she’s not mad at me. The phone vibrates again, and I launch myself at it before it can buzz its way onto the floor.

It’s a message from Ty, with an address I don’t recognize. Not Philly or Wilmington. I frown. I guess this is where we are meeting for brunch? Weird. I type it into the map app, but it shows some random land out in what looks like the middle of nowhere. Great.

Another message comes in, and I roll my eyes, laughing.

And remember, Peaches, no underwear

I think you have the wrong number

I’m Savannah

No, babe, you’re Peaches, because we met at the grocery store when we bonked hands, reaching for the same peach

Oh, is that right? That’s not how I remember it

I can’t help laughing as I settle back onto my bed, feeling more lighthearted as another message comes in from him.

It was the juiciest peach I’ve ever tasted

You’re really the worst. Please don’t say that in front of your parents

I’m blushing furiously, and I’m not even around anyone else. If he says something like that in front of his freaking parents, I might just die.

I’m completely innocent. We’re talking about fruit, Peaches

No underwear or else

In your dreams

Only the wet ones

My jaw drops, and I stare at my phone, slightly shocked. I mean, yes, I knew he was insinuating… sexy things, but that was outright down and dirty.

I type out a response, then delete it. I have no idea what to say to that.

When and where am I meeting you and your parents?

Emphasis on parents. Maybe that will be enough to get him to stop being a weirdo about my underwear.

And my brother

Right. How could I forget—part of the reason I stayed up late working, because I am freaked the hell out about taking our… I don’t even know what to call it… our arrangement semi-public. Will his brother recognize me?

Probably not. I doubt the players give a crap about any of the cheerleaders.

I’m so screwed if he does, though.

At least it was productive anxiety. Honestly, too, I’m not nearly as stressed about meeting his family as I would be if this were real. All I have to do is show up and be sweet. That’s not too bad. I smooth my hands across the skirt of the dress, standing up and blowing out a breath.

Yeah. I don’t care if they love me or not.

This thing with Tyler isn’t permanent, it’s a business arrangement. I’ve got no skin in this game. I’ll never see his parents again after he’s done with me.

With that thought firmly in my mind, I take my underwear off, pulling them over the espadrilles and tossing them in my purse, just in case I lose my nerve.

Why not? It’s not like they’re going to be my real in-laws.

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