Page 16 of The Off-Limits Rule: Extended Edition

Friends.

I hate that word. But it’s my only option right now.

Chapter 7

Lucy

“Honey, I’m home!” I shout into the house the moment I step inside.

I kick off my shoes and groan because I feel like Cinderella’s evil stepsister if she had actually shoved her big fat feet into those glass slippers, then wore them all day while hairdressing. Note to self: work shoes should not be found on the five-dollar sale rack. Lesson learned. Movingon.

“Hey! I’m in here,” Drew calls from the living room.

I make my way down the little entry hall and peek my head around the corner. He’s sitting on the edge of the couch, playing a video game. How is it even fair that grown men are allowed to still play video games (and a doctor no less), but if he walked in on me playing with my old Barbies he would send me to therapy?

“Did you get off work early today?”

“Yeah, my last patient canceled. Where’s Levi?”

“He’s at Mom and Dad’s tonight. I was planning on getting him after work, but when I called to say I was on my way, he askedif he could spend the night instead.” The poor kid missed his grandparents so much while we were in Georgia, and I think he’s trying to make up for lost time by spending every waking moment with them, which is honestly okay with me. I’ve barely had any help over the past year, so even though I’ve been working full-time at the salon for the past week, I feel like a shriveled-up, half-dead plant that’s being watered and fertilized. Well…watered at least. Still single over here, so no fertilizing happening yet.

“Okay, well, have fun playing that little twelve-year-old boy’s game. I’m going to go grab a shower because I basically cut a mop off someone’s head today, and I think ninety percent of it is somehow stuck in my underwear.”

“Do you overshare like this with everyone or just me?”

“I save it all up just for you, big brother!” I say, heading toward the stairs with the intent to shower, dress myself in my comfiest PJs, and then crash into my pillow for the rest of the night.

Drew calls out before I leave the room, “Hey, you want to get a pizza and rent a movie tonight?”

I smile to myself because if teenage me—the one whose older brother was embarrassed to be seen with her and always put up a fuss if asked to drive her anywhere—could see grown-up me now, best friends with that same brother, she’d never believe it. “I want to, but I’m so tired I don’t think I can. I plan on getting under my covers and finding a way to have Chinese food delivered right to my bed.”

His eyes leave the screen for the first time to shoot me a reprimanding look. “Not really, right? That’s super unsafe.”

I take off my smelly sock and throw it at him. “No, I’m not serious! Geez, what do you think I am? Five years old?”

He chuckles and turns his eyes back to the TV. “Says thewoman who just threw a sock at me and has her toenails painted in a rainbow pattern.”

“Thank you for noticing my nails. Now, leave me alone. I’m going to take my shower.”

“Wait. Want me to order a pizza? I’ll even deliver it to your bed.”

“Awww, now I see why other people like you. Pepperoni please,” I call back to him as I make my way up the stairs.

When I lay my phone on the bathroom counter, it lights up with a text, which effectively lights up my whole body.

Cooper:What are you doing tonight?

Did I mention this is part of the reason I’m so exhausted today? After Cooper left the salon yesterday (with a fantastic new haircut, I might add), he texted me about how much he liked the cut, then we continued to text until 1:30 in the morning. I kept expecting to get one of those awful ending-the-conversation texts, likeWell, it’s been nice chatting!but it never came. We texted until I accidentally fell asleep and woke up to my cheek mashed against my phone’s screen, the letterPtyped at least two hundred times into the text box.

It was a great talk with Cooper, though. He told me about his job (he works as the senior brand manager at a marketing agency called Hampton Creative) and how he moved here from Charlotte last year to take the position he has now. I asked him if doing what he does in marketing is his passion and if that’s why he was willing to move for the job, but he just replied,Eh. It’s a job. I like it, but it’s never going to be what fulfills me. It was just a convenient reason to leave town.

There was so much loaded into that last sentence, but I didn’t dive into it because I felt like he would have offered up the can of worms if he felt like it. Still, as someone who knows all too well what it’s like to need a convenient reason to leave town, I can spot a tragic life story from a mile away. I also know what it’s like to not want to talk aboutit.

So, I moved on and told him about how my mom was a hairdresser before she retired, and how she let me help her put in a full foil highlight on her friend’s hair in our kitchen when I was only ten. Hairdressing always seemed like the logical path to take since it was something I knew I was good at, and thankfully, I’ve enjoyed it more and more every year. I feel sort of similar to Cooper—it’s a job I like, but it will never be what fills me up, and I’m okay with that. I don’t think everyone is meant to have a career that changes the world. Sometimes you’ve just gotta pay the bills and then clock out so you can get to the life you love the most, which, for me, is being with Levi.

After our night of back-and-forth texts, Cooper and I feel like friends. Friends who talk about TV shows and hobbies and crack jokes. I know things about him, beyond the shade of his eyes and what he wears to work, and somehow that makes me feel powerful. It also lets me see that I misjudged him slightly when I first met him. It’s not so much that Cooper’s a flirt as he is just fun and engaging. Drew had talked him up as a real player, someone who should not be trusted, but I don’t get those vibes from him—especially not when he texts me pictures of watchingWheel of Fortuneand brags about how quickly he can solve the puzzle.

I bite the corner of my lip and reread Cooper’s message, wondering what a sexy woman of the world would reply. Probably something likeWouldn’t you like to know…with a winky-face emoji and fireworks or something else equally elusive that leadsyou to believe it’s an innuendo. But we all know I can’t pull off a text like that, nor would anyone believe I’m up to anything innuendo-related, so I just respond honestly.

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