Page 66 of Rule Breakers Fall Hardest

Bile creeps up my throat and my entire body goes hot as I gag again. For a long moment, I stand with my back to the door, fanning my face and breathing through the nausea.

If Daire were home, I have no doubt he’d tell me how dramatic I am. I can’t help it if the thought of a spider skittering through the house scares me.

The spider and I didn’t come into contact with one another. Nonetheless, my skin crawls. Desperate for a shower, I sprint upstairs and say a prayer that there are no more little critters running around.

I close my door and strip my clothes off as I head into the bathroom. While the water heats, I pull a fresh towel from under the sink and drape it over the shower door.

When steam begins to fill the bathroom, I clip my hair up and step inside.

I scrub my body thoroughly, unable to fight the urge to decontaminate myself, and figure I might as well shave my legs while I’m in here.

I’m usually in and out of the shower quickly, but tonight, I spend a solid forty minutes under the scalding spray, letting it soothe my muscles and calm my mind.

Once my body is dry and I’ve slathered lotion over every inch of skin, I slip into a pair of black sweatpants and a purple cropped sweatshirt.

As I’m shaking out my hair, I hear movement downstairs—the squeak of a barstool—and an unbidden wave of comfort washes over me. Daire’s home.

My stomach rumbles as I step out into the hall, reminding me I haven’t eaten dinner. The popcorn I stuffed into my mouth and the ice cream with Bertie hardly counts.

I find Daire in the kitchen setting a hodgepodge of ingredients on the island.

“I’m starving. What are you making?”

He chuffs a laugh. “Not anything fun. Just chicken and veggies.”

“Ugh. Boring.” I flip my hair over my shoulder dramatically. “Can I have some anyway?”

He shakes his head, his upper lip curling in amusement. “Sure, as long as you don’t tell me how much you don’t like it.”

I mime zipping my lips. “I won’t say a word.”

He washes his hands, then gets to work preparing everything.

As he works, I wait, thinking he’ll bring up the kiss, but he remains focused on the task at hand.

Once the oven chimes, signaling that it’s preheated, he slides the tray of chicken into the oven and washes his hands again.

“Daire?”

Holding a knife in one hand and a steadying a stalk of broccoli on a cutting board with the other, he flicks his head slightly to force an errant piece of blond hair out of his eyes. “Hmm?”

“Why… um… why did you kiss me?” I tap my nails on the counter softly while I wait for his answer, pretending my heart isn’t racing a mile a minute.

He lowers the knife to the cutting board and narrows those denim blue eyes on me. “Why do youthinkI kissed you?”

A lump lodges in my throat, but I swallow past it and sit up straight. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”

With a sigh, he runs his fingers through his hair. Then he presses his hands flat on the counter, fingers splayed, and stares at me. Through me. Straight to my soul.

“I might not know exactly what those girls were saying to you, but I can guess. I wanted to show them you’re mine.”

My throat goes dry. I like the sound of him calling me hiswaytoo much for a fake relationship.

“Th-Thank you,” I stammer.

“I saw how uncomfortable you were.” He curls his hands into fists on the quartz countertop. “I didn’t like that.”

“It’s just jealousy.” I shrug, going for dismissive. “They want you.”

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