Page 16 of Breaking Rules

“Actually, yeah, I do.” I take off my sweatpants and slip into a dark blue satin nightie. Hands on my hips, I stare back at him, though my expression is one of annoyance, not excitement. “Since when is Meg not good enough for a guy like Xander? What’s so special about him?”

Frowning, he drops his hands. “God, you’re no fun.”

“You spent all night clubbing, then spent today bossing me around like I’m your maid?—”

“Why are you so moody? And since when do you have a problem with me hanging out with my friends?” he rasps, conveniently ignoring the second part of my sentence. “You never want to go out, so I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

His brow is furrowed with confusion. My reaction surprised him. Normally, I put up with his bullshit. This time? It’s different, and I don’t know why.

“I have no problem with where you go. Nightclubs, private events, restaurants—whatever. You’re not my property, so I’ll never tell you what to do.” Chest constricting, I work up the nerve to tell him what’s really bothering me. “But I don’t like how you treated me today. It’s like you don’t respect me, like I’m only here to satisfy your needs.”

Unwilling to let him see me cry, I turn and storm to the bathroom. Once the door is closed behind me, I survey my reflection, taking in the tears forming in my eyes. I turn the faucet on and splash icy water across my face. Tears are a weakness, and I refuse to let anyone see me like this. After a few deep, calming breaths, I finger-comb my hair and assess myself in the mirror again. The girl looking back at me is filled with sadness and defeat.Typical.

Growing up, I learned the easiest way to survive was to please those around me. It was the only way to stop my mother’s constant berating. Plus, it felt good when I made people happy, when they were kinder to me.

Respect, though, is a whole other thing, as Jake has proven time and time again.

When I finally collect myself and return to the bedroom, he’s playing on his phone, unbothered.

Without a word, I slip under the covers and turn my back to him. I don’t want to talk to him, and I certainly don’t want him to touch me.

“Isabella.” He turns off the bedside lamp. “What do you want me to say?” Rolling onto his side, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to his chest.

“Nothing. If you don’t think you did anything wrong, I don’t want you to say anything,” I mumble, closing my eyes. I don’t need forced or fake apologies.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how my actions and words would affect you.” He nuzzles my neck, going for affectionate.

All I feel is numb. This reaction isn’t new. He acted like this in high school, too, so I shouldn’t be surprised. Men never change. My stepfather is a prime example of that.

“Thank you for saying that,” I whisper, though I don’t believe him for a second.

“Listen, babe, about Meghan. She’s great—beautiful and smart. It’s just…Walker has no interest in anything but casual sex.”

I huff. “Still, what you said about her wasn’t nice.”

“Let me put it this way. Walker will fuck anything that moves, and if she’s hot, it’s a bonus. Do you want your best friend hooking up with a guy like him? I was just trying to protect her.”

“A guy like him?” I wriggle around to face him. “What’s the story there? You said he’s your friend, but you don’t exactly speak highly of him.”

With a long sigh, he runs a hand down my hip. “Xander and I were roommates in college. We both had dreams of going pro, similar beliefs and values, that kind of thing. Honestly, he was like a brother to me.”

“But…? What happened?”

Jake rolls onto his back, not saying a word, his eyes trained on the ceiling. “A girl happened. We wanted the same girl…and she chose me.” He sighs. “We argued, even fought at practice once. Coach said if we wanted to stay on the team, we needed to figure our shit out.”

“What did you do?”

“We talked. I dumped the girl, and Walker and I patched things up. Bros before hoes, as they say,” he chuckles.

A wave of nausea rolls through me at the disgusting phrase.

“For me, at least. Apparently, not for him. A few weeks later, I found out he banged her the day I broke up with her.”

“Then why are you still friends with him?”

“We won the championship that year. It brought us together again. He’s not a bad guy, honestly. We were kids, and he apologized. We’re good.” Finally, he looks at me. There’s a smile on his face.

Something is off, but I can’t pinpoint exactly what. Maybe it’s the way Xander behaved today in the kitchen. Is he going for a repeat performance?

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