Page 19 of Your Rule to Break

For some reason, I’m compelled to listen. I walk to my bedroom.

“No, I haven’t heard that one, but I don’t want any more nightmares.” I fall into my bed and pull the covers to my chin.

Zack laughs, light and clear. “Oh, this is a funny story. Promise.”

He launches into the story, his voice inflecting up and down in a way you’d hear someone read a children’s book, not like he’s talking about getting naked on stage.

“Really, it was poor marketing on their part. I thought I was showing up to a boy band dance contest. Rules were simple: dance to any boy band song of your choice and the winner got $500.”

“What was the pull here? You don’t need $500.”

“Shh. This is my story,” he lightly scolds on the other line. “It wasn’t about the money but here’s the thing… I love a boy band moment. It seemed like it would be fun. Anyways, the thing they left out was that the dancing was a strip tease.”

I prop my phone up on my pillow, Zack’s voice still easy to hear, and let my body relax. My bones, heavy and tired, feel comfort with the weight of the blanket. I place one hand on my chest, feeling secure in the rising and falling of my own breaths. I will myself to sink further into the mattress, the pressure welcome and like a warm hug. My eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open, until they finally lose the fight.

And I fall asleep to the sound of Zack’s voice.

Chapter 12

Zack

“Want to walk aroundthe park before we head back?” I ask Emilie as we stand outside the breakfast spot. I put out a hand, an invitation.

She holds her iced coffee like it’s a life source. I brought her one when I met her at her apartment, and she ordered another at breakfast this morning.

It’s early but there’s still a person lurking with a camera, documenting this entire interaction. Doesn’t bother me—take those pictures and post them. Kind of counting on it. If one thing’s clear, I need to make this work—pull it off—for Emilie.

The way she sounded last night is hard to get out of my head. It was like you could reach out and grab the panic. Emilie has always been consistent, together, and one step ahead of most. Hearing her like that was the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard.

The sun hits Emilie’s face and she pulls her sunglasses on, abandoning the top of her head. One corner of her lip pulls up as she reaches for my outstretched hand, her fingers slipping into mine.

The smile that takes over my face has no business being this bright. Emilie is always holding someone’s hand—it’s kind of her thing. Could be a stranger on a plane, Willow, or someone in the suite during a game.

Chill the fuck out, Zack. This is nothing.

I pull her closer as we walk through the park entrance. It’s early enough that it’s decently empty. We walk in silence for a few minutes.Birds chirp as a breeze runs through the trees, rustling the leaves still bright and green at the height of summer.

The wind tones down the August air, making it the perfect temperature.

“What’s your favorite month?” I ask.

“January.”

I don’t know what I expected her to say but it wasn’t that. My face must give me away.

She shrugs. “I like the start of something new. Fresh start. January makes me feel like I can accomplish anything.”

“January makes my stomach hurt.” I mimic keeling over, my free hand touching my core. “It’s the heat of the playoffs. Do or die. All or nothing. Win or go home.”

Emilie turns to me. “I can see that. The contrast of how we view the same time of year…it’s interesting.”

“Iaminteresting,” I joke and bump her shoulder with mine. I can’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses but I'm betting I got a signature Emilie-eyeroll.

“You’re something,” she says, a smile still pulling at her lips.

Ding. Her phone goes off.

“Who keeps the sound on their phone? I feel like I haven’t heard mine in years.” I poke her.

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